The Telling of War
by tremor3258
Summary: Originally done for the Star Trek Online forums Unofficial Literary Challenge 15 'War Correspondent' prompt, three stories across the timeline telling of captains dealing with the presence of reporters and what happens when the craziness of the player characters' lives replay to the general public. Updated Ch. 3 to correct readability issues
1. Deadline at the Web of Madness

"Deadline at the Web of Madness"

By tremor3258

Note: Set after 'Temporal Ambassador'. More importantly, set after 'Mind Game'. Before captains in-game start rescuing Romulan ships in Azure Nebula Rescue as well.

* * *

An'riel seh'Virinat beamed into madness. The landing pad and warehouses for shuttles had people going in every direction constantly, with research teams and settlers constantly arriving and heading towards the frontier. Construction equipment was still busy pouring the city wall to protect the new seat of government against the threats of the barely-explored planet, and give the capital its definition.

Overhead, even at noon, the sky was full of stars, and lower, shuttles, whispering in to a landing. It was no less mad at the drydocks – half assembling new ones even as the other half desperately worked to build or bring out of mothballs the warbirds that would turn the Republic Navy from an ungainly flotilla to a modern power. Freighters and liners and ex-Imperial vessels were arriving all the time, proof of the Republic's willingness to discard the terror of the past, and their victories in the fight against Elachi and the Tal Shiar puppeting the Imperial corpse

An'riel found her fist clenching. _No,_ An'riel told herself sternly, _you're not their puppet._

"Subcommander?" asked a voice near the beam-in area. She whirled, hand on her sidearm – this was not a tamed planet – but an aide with Lieutenant shoulder tabs stood there.

"Centurion," she corrected uneasily. Looking at the trees nearby – but they were rippling chaotically – typically that level of mimicry was beyond holodeck programs. "I am afraid you may be looking for someone else, Lieutenant."

"I'm sorry," the tan-haired officer said – Elements, he couldn't be more than three decades, "But I was given your description and notified you were transporting down." He held up a tricorder – An'riel's face, certainly, back from the flotilla when she first showed up, declaring herself a ship captain.

"May I ask what this is about, Lieutenant," An'riel asked. Still hesitant, "I was ordered to report to Command."

"Yes, ma'am," the Lieutenant confirmed, "But Command has moved since your last visit – we finally got enough warehouses up we were able to move out of the tent complex."

Both glanced over at the city still under construction and sighed.

"Admiral Kererek is expecting you in a few minutes, ma'am," the Lieutenant prompted.

An'riel relaxed some, but kept her hand near her pistol. "Please lead the way – you know the state of the city better than I." The Lieutenant shrugged, mainly with his eyes, and wove a path through the tents and anti-grav pallets, but paused briefly outside the structure, glancing at a chronometer.

An'riel did the same, promptly as the hour struck, the door slid open – a long haired Rihannsu female, probably a few decades older than her, though that was hitting the age span where it was hard to tell, left, wearing subcommander markings. An'riel and the aide saluted, but the Subcommander, looking hurried, simply departed. An'riel raised an eyebrow at the Lieutenant, but said nothing.

"Subcommander Jarok, ma'am, the Admiral's previous appointment," the Lieutenant said stiffly.

"Jarok," An'riel said, the name tugging at something, " _Tiaru_ Jarok?" she said, surprised.

"Jolan Tru, Centurion. The Subcommander recently left the Imperial Navy for the Republic. We're planning an official announcement later, she brought most of a squadron," Admiral Kererek interrupted. "I wasn't aware you two were acquainted." He gestured them in invitingly.

"Jolan tru, Admiral. I know her only by reputation," An'riel said, glancing over her shoulder at the departing figure, "And propaganda, I suppose, considering her father." An'riel entered the makeshift office, the Lieutenant waiting outside, though she briefly started seeing a Vulcan lieutenant commander waiting in the office in Starfleet science-branch colors. She collapsed into an offered chair, feeling a touch of vertigo.

"Oh, she's earned her reputation," the Admiral said, "We're pleased to have her. Actually – you're part of the reason she's here. Your sacrifices against the Tal Shiar have helped us bring many of their crimes against our people to light. More and more colonies and ships are leaving the Empire. And, after confirmation from D'Tan, I'd like to give you this." Kererek opened a small case, revealing the epaulettes of a subcommander.

An'riel sighed in relief, "Oh that is good news. I mean, thank you Admiral, I was concerned with your aide and," she stopped. She couldn't tell him she had any doubts to reality, as Hakeev was still alive. She had to stay in at least as long as Hakeev was still alive. "Your aide referred to the wrong rank when he addressed me, Admiral." Kererek growled and made a brief note. An'riel continued, "I admit, after the last few weeks running familiarization exercises on Ambassador Suigihara's _Ambassadors_ , I was afraid I was to be stripped of command even after my medical evaluation passed. You have many more trained commanders now than a motley band of farmers."

"True," Admiral Kererek said with a smile, "But you've proven successful, and your success at familiarization exercises with our ally's large ships shows that the additional training courses your crew received at the Academy were successful." It wasn't polite to refer to it as 'sweeping for listening devices', after all. "And with Starfleet turning over impounded ships, and the shipyards coming on-line, we will need successful captains for our large ships. We'd like you to continue in Operations than in Home Defense. We'll need captains for those _Scimitars_ someday."

An'riel's mouth twisted, and the Vulcan in the room chuckled. An'riel, feeling a little more centered, and studied the officer more closely. "Ah," Admiral Kererek said, "Permit me to introduce: This is Lieutenant Commander Do'vek, Starfleet Media Relations."

"I thought personnel resulting from refugees of the Star Empire were being taken into Republic service?" An'riel asked gently.

Do'vek laughed at that, "You're not bad, Subcommander. Four of the last six officers spotted the smooth head and figured Vulcan."

"I have actually been to Vulcan, briefly," An'riel replied. "It was too impossible an opportunity to not take, though in all honesty, our ancestral homeworld was not to my comfort. And you are not dour enough to be a Vulcan."

Do'vek laughed, "It's not to mine either. Not nearly enough humidity." He pointed at his brow again and, laughing, said, "People say we're in an era of equity, but humans keep saying Vulcans don't have emotions. The aliens easily miss half the kinesthetic cues." Kererek coughed briefly, and Do'vek explained, "Actually, I was running a listening post near Starbase 234 when the Republic started to come together. Someone liked my report style, apparently, and I got officially transferred to Starfleet."

"D'Tan considers the establishment of a new tradition of free press one of the strongest efforts the Republic can make to distance itself," Kererek explained, "We also have efforts among the Empire's loremasters. Learning the stated and unstaged regulations will be important if we are to create civilian investigative journalists instead of propagandists and spies. Even D'Tan understands there are limits to information flow, despite his dreams for our society." An'riel nodded to that.

"I've been interviewing existing Republic captains as part of it- we're putting together some brief biographies and maybe even some holofeatures about our oldest captain. Not everyone's making the jump from rebel to establishment, but their stories are very important," Do'vek said, eyes fairly glowing, "And your successes make you an important part of the story, the military counterpoint that will allow our civilian ministries to flourish."

"I would be happy to interview, though it is only through the intervention of the likes of Commander Temer that I have had the opportunities I have had," An'riel said.

"Actually," Kererek said, "Do'vek had a different idea for you, since you're continuing at the point of the spear. We have a ship we'd like you to commission – Intelligence has received hints that something's major in the works, but we have an operation ready now, if you'd like. Do'vek would like to come on board and interview the other survivors of the pre-Republic you've gathered in your crew, as well as gather impressions for a story to submit to the Federation."

An'riel blinked at that. "I will do what I can to give the Republic a good face – some of the stories may need to be classified still," she said. Do'vek nodded. "And as long as it does not interfere with any operations," An'riel said.

"I have full clearance from both governments, Subcommander," Do'vek assured, "In fact – this was actually in the works when you were still on your most recent tour. I'm afraid I was delayed at 234, I know you were undergoing a shakedown cruise and I was hoping to take part then." Kererek nodded in confirmation.

"I feel a little more comfortable with that," An'riel said, "That this is not some embedded consular assignment." There was a bit of an edge to her words, and she took a deep breath before continuing, "But I am sure this will be a better story. I took awarbird into the Azure Nebula with a skeleton crew and orders to avoid conflict. We spotted some sensor ghosts and then came home. Since then I have been overseeing readying some of the ships donated by our allies to Republic service."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," An'riel thought she heard Do'vek mutter.

Admiral Kererek didn't, and said, "Yes, we did want to make sure you could still command, but we are sure now – and most of those old ships are going to go back to refit eventually into their native yards, once there's space. While we have our concerns, the Borg presence continues to grow in Federation space near our borders, and for all our sakes, the Republic must send forces to Task Force Omega, even if the blueprints are of… dubious origin. Helping distinguish ourselves from the old users is important to D'Tan and our allies"

"I suppose if you have a proven dreadnought design, it is a luxury to design another one," An'riel said grimly. The _Scimitars_ had a lot of terrible things associated with them, and she was one of the few who had seen the results of a thalaron attack first hand. Even without a WMD on board, they were absolutely vicious ships, and the Republic had better uses for their engineers than designing _extra_ dreadnaughts.

"Yes, though sadly the Borg, deadly though they are, are actually lower on our list of threats than the Tal Shiar, the Elachi, the Cardassian and Hirogen mercenaries they've hired, and independent pirates," Kererek said.

"I would think our most immediate concern are the Tal Shiar's possession of thalaron triggers and distribution through unknown channels," An'riel said tightly, still thinking of that monstrous green glow. "Or possibly better ties to the Remans, after Crateris and Delta Corvi."

"Intelligence doesn't have anything solid yet, but I understand what honor requires there," Kererek said grimly, "No – losses of Republic ships has increased by three hundred percent near the Azure Nebula in the last two weeks, and is still climbing. Only ships built by Rihannsu as well, Federation and Empire freighter losses are still declining at a slow pace.

"It's not just freighters either, but patrol ships and convoy groups. We are undertaking internal inquiries, but we believe the Tholians may have decided to take a more active interest in the Republic. A few Klingon vessels caught some long-range scans, and there's been historic evidence of Tholians being sighted occasionally."

He huffed, "As for the Remans… they aren't sure we won't put them in the same place, and I can't blame them. Most of their colonies are still too close to Rator, and have had far too many 'mysterious disappearances' to make a clean break to the Republic."

"Is my crew available?" An'riel asked, half-pleading, half-intrigued. "I had several briefings on the Nukara situation – as active as the nebula is, tracking the webspinners' ships may be difficult."

Kererek nodded, "Most of them are still interested in flying, and your command crew is requesting either yourself or your first officer. Someday, if we succeed, I may need to send you all to the Academy to teach." He grimaced, "But we'll need to build it first. We took the liberty of readying a new ship – the _Raptor Blade_ is too well known for the assignments you've proven a knack for. The _R.R.W. Resp Invictus_ is ready."

"That pirate scow?" Do'vek burst in, surprised. "Admiral, is there anything with a better legacy? Please? This is for posterity."

An'riel hadn't heard of the ship, but the Navy was exploding exponentially. "I assume this is one of the warbirds that had been impounded by one of our allied governments," she said politely.

Admiral Kererek admitted, "Most of _our_ newer and active ships are needing refits as well, so this is what was available. We thought its previous life as a raider for one of the splinter factions would be useful given your previously shown flexibility. Though I can hope soon to be able to offer you properly something from _our_ shipyards."

An'riel said, "If it only fought in the Dominion War, then it will be new to me." She paused, briefly, then asked, "I do not suppose the improved plasma weapons are available?" The Republic was defined by plasma weapons as the Empire by disruptors; mainly as plasma weapons, crude-and-short-range, were easy for system defense forces to keep up before improvements in beam weapon technology had brought them to a relative parity. Republic engineers had been discussing synching the disruption effect to the captains' familiar plasma weapons, but it was still in prototype.

Do'vek laughed at that, "That's the question of the day, isn't it Admiral?"  
"We perhaps should not have promised them so soon," the Admiral acknowledged. "We have adapted the plasma cannon assemblies to current standards, and the dockyard assures me the skinfield and energized shielding are at current standards, but it's more fragile than our allies' ships."

"I would rather have maneuverability," An'riel admitted, "As fine as the _Ambassadors_ are, and even the crude cloak on a _T'liss_ has corrupted me from an early age." She laughed, relaxing more. Reality was not upended, she still had her family, and the dead taken silently in the night would still get their chance at vengeance. She would not have to approach their ghosts empty-handed.

She turned to Do'vek. "Lieutenant Commander, I do hope you will not mind having to deal with our 'skulking' style of warfare for a little while," she said.

"I'm not a line officer, Subcommander," Do'vek promised, "The ship is yours. I'm here to observe." She nodded. Do'vek seemed a reasonable sort.

* * *

"Subcommander, I think if we can get access to the communication repeater from Starbase 234 for fifteen seconds, we can erase Lieutenant Commander Do'vek's records in fifteen seconds. No one will ever think to look for him," An'riel's deflector officer, Hiven, implored.

The _Mogai_ had proven to be about what Kererek had hinted at. Crowded, dark, slightly cramped, and occasionally it made odd sounds. But its guns were fine and it had a good sized sensor suite, an excellent patrol vessel or independent operator. And the dockyard had, from what An'riel gathered looking at its logs, done wonders about the smell.

The heavy-set Rihannsu looked like half the quadrant's image of a Tal Shiar thug with his build and close-trimmed hair, but he was a genius at sensors, and generally considered by his teams a good leader. Satra, perhaps half his size and unquestionably his senior in the science department, stood at his side, content to let him make the case, for instance.

Until now, An'riel had considered them both pretty egalitarian, voidborn Rihannsu. "This is rather sudden for a targeted assassination," she said, half joking. She'd opened the meeting to discussion moments ago for their plans to investigate the recent losses. Tovan, her second, noble-born and fallen to dirt in the fires of Hobus, rested on one of the couches, double-checking his analysis of the material Republic Operations had provided. Veril, Reman, teenager, prodigy with the face of a monster was pacing on the side of the room, staying out of it. Jalel, Trill liaison from Starfleet, was really staying out of it: he had the bridge watch.

Hiven glanced briefly at Satra, and continued. "He's… asking questions, all the time. Not just what it was like at Khitomer, or Crateris, what we did after joining you. What it was like on Gasko, what the Tal Shiar did. What do you like about your life now, what did you like about it before. What would you like the future to be."

Satra frowned, arms folded, and broke in. "We were away from this, An'riel. You gave your bond on it. If this is what it took to get you back, a political officer, then they're no better than the Empire. No, they're worse, all their promises of Duty to ideals instead of just who's in power. We drop Jalel off somewhere safe, and make a break for it – maybe try the Resistance? Veril, any ideas?"

"Oh no – I'm here for the singularity core, not the treason," the Reman said, "Anyway – my dad would've known of any network. I had enough trouble keeping the ventilators going." She resumed pacing.

An'riel glanced at Tovan, who looked up, catching the movement, and gave a brief shrug. "Sorry," he said, "I was too young at Romulus to hear anything but rumor, let alone pay any attention what passed for news. I've just mainly talked about my sister with him. You saw as much news as me at Virinat." She looked at him, heavy-lidded for a moment. Her exec shrugged again.

She turned to look at her science officers, thinking for a few seconds how best to phrase this. "I do not believe the Lieutenant Commander is here as a political or security officer for the Federation or the Republic. Did you get a chance to see any news broadcasts when we were at Earth?"

The two officers looked at each other and shook their heads. "I know you got some of it," Satra said, "But there's a lot of coursework on the science track with that familiarization program they had us take. The Vulcans seem to expect you to be able to analyze everything across the scope."

"I admit, I was better at getting readings than full analysis when I was full time behind the sensor screen," An'riel said politely, "But it is the nature of the Federation: they question, constantly. It's not just what is happening today, but they are always seeking the full framework and the full understanding of all the Elements of before and now, so they can find the future." She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her neck. "It nearly drove me mad the first week at Earth Spacedock, the way they talk all the time. It sometimes seems all they do."

She shook herself from self-reflection and waited a beat, "I do know the Commander was an analyst of some kind before his current job. I will ask him to do a better job explaining himself to the crew – he is also science track, technically, so he may be slipping into the habits of his adopted homeland, but I will try to get him to change his approach. If not, I will _remind_ him of the habits we have been forced to adopt to survive."

Satra and Hiven nodded their thanks at this.

"Now, we needed ideas of how we were going to ambush an ambusher – anyone?" An'riel said briskly as the meeting started in earnest.

* * *

She walked out on the decks towards Do'vek's quarters, nodding to crewmembers. The few days they'd had before launch she'd been busy committing names to faces as best she could, as much as studying the Navy's tactical manuals for the ship. It was strange, but the Elements of the ship seemed to acknowledge the temporary nature of the command.

It was an old steady plodder of a warbird, it'd serve its old masters to the best of its nature, and would do the same for its next captain. No fresh ship like the _Dehlan,_ packed with optimism to make something of Temer's great sacrifice to the honor of the Republic, or a proud old monument of empire like Malem's beloved old _T'liss_. This ship was never the Empire's cutting edge, designed as an intermediary, and its Elements resonated that it expected its captains to move onto something better.

It was an odd feeling, she'd never been anywhere she'd been urged to surpass it before. Everywhere before this was a refuge of one kind or another, for a very long time, even if it was one she'd clawed out. She'd gotten her little note in history for being at Khitomer. Now even her ship was saying it was time to spread her wings. What kind of commander _should_ she be?

A brief turbolift ride, and she was in the primary mess hall. Do'vek was at a table, Federation and Republic PADDs scattered, and a chair artfully placed to be invitingly open to be sat in across from him. She admired the stagecraft, briefly, and the ring of off-duty personnel watching the stranger, debating to approach.

She started to approach, and then thought better of it. What he did was _unnatural_ to their eyes, but that was part of D'Tan's point, and she did not want to appear to punish him. She instead tapped on the console, sending a message.

 **Please meet me in the hydroponics bay on this level at your convenience – Subcommander seh'Virinat.**

She walked out before he could look up.

A few minutes later, he caught up with her while she was studying the plants – someone had gotten a decent strain of Kali-fal started on board, and she'd been checking the buds without seeing his approach.

"Subcommander?" Do'vek said as he drew himself up, apparently from nowhere.

"Lieutenant Commander," An'riel said, turning, managing barely not to start. Journalists were _stealthy_ in the Federation. "I understand what you are trying to do on the Proconsul's behalf, but elements of my crew do not immediately understand the Federation way." She dropped the buds, and continued, "Some of us have pasts that would lie happier buried."

Do'vek opened his mouth, stopped, then opened again, "Ah – I see. Or I think I do – I forget how few people at home were able to see the broadcasts I did, or want to emulate it and be seen." He paused, "Permission to speak freely?"

"I try to promote it except in battle," An'riel said, half-automatically.

"Yes, to your credit," Do'vek said, "Your willingness to admit you don't know and continue is probably one of the reasons Kererek wanted you so badly." An'riel inclined her head at that, though this was the first she'd heard of it – the Republic's Operations department when they left on their Tal Shiar adventure had been "An'riel, this is Nadel – can you pick up some warp coils and make sure no one is in patrol route six? Thanks!"

"Subcommander," Do'vek continued, "I think you may qualify under that as well. Your version of your history was complete, accurate as far as I could tell, and very carefully edited of personal sentiment before Virinat. The Federation is interested in the _why_ as much as the _what_ or _how_ , something the Tal Shiar never bothered with."

" _Why_ was never a safe question to ask," An'riel said, "The Tal Shiar bred terror and paranoia, and exported it to innocent people. Those instincts kept people alive. I understand what you are doing, but I had a better chance at Federation exposure, and some of the crew had joined since then. Please, try to be gentle."

"Apparently you've also picked up how to dodge a question," Do'vek said insistently. "Your crew may get nervous if anyone dares look into their motives, but you've clearly always been an explorer. It's a mindset as much as how easy you are going over the deflector settings. And your persona - your dialect is downright old-fashioned, even for Imperial commanders, maybe even theatrical. History will want to know, and this is one of your chances to set your slant on it."

"History?" An'riel said dubiously, " _Temer_ is history, _D'Tan_ is history for the ages. He worked for years and years while everyone kept their heads down. My _service record_ is the only important thing I have done – what is another tangled tragedy have to do with it? I had my little brush at Khitomer, but the Republic's far bigger than one little Subcommander, now. I was not at Romulus, our 'glorious leaders' after Hobus removed the rest of my family, I kept my head down, and somehow, thank the Elements, **I've** a chance to do something now about lancing the corrupting, but the past is often a dark place, where they've you shooting your friends _or worse_ as the price of admission." She stopped, realizing how fast she was talking, slurring a little.

Do'vek was watching, quiet. An'riel said, more stiffly, "My more _recent_ history may not better. I am sorry, Lieutenant Commander."

"Not even Tovan knows what happened on that ship, does he? I was let to look at your psychological report, but not copy it," Do'vek explained, "And I've heard how cutthroat some of those cram schools could be."

"If you were not on Romulus, you were second-class," An'riel said quietly, "Then we all were. And no, I simply told them they rescued me from hell, and left it at that. They are not interested in how hell is constructed, they are happy they could satisfy mnhei'sahe. I am happy to leave it at that. Death of personality does not need description. 'One of the billions of tragic refugees' is all my history deserves, I think, and I am happy to have done a turn better for the Republic's history."

"Very well," Do'vek conceded, "Though I don't think history is done with you. I will try not to alarm your crew any more – though I appreciate you bringing it to my attention. Though since I have _your_ attention…"

"Yes?"  
"Where do you want me embedded in this little hunt for whatever is eating ships?" he asked.

"There is a small office off the bridge," An'riel said relieved to be back to business, "You can watch from there and make note for questions later."

* * *

A shift later, after An'riel had gotten some sleep – not much, but Rihannsu could tolerate it for a while and she was trying to get away from the tranquilizers, she and her full bridge crew were at their posts on the narrow bridge, the new consoles shining against the dingy older plating. They were on passive, full cloak and emissions protocol, not even trusting multi-spectral phased pulses or deployed probes on tightbeam.

They were close enough, a scant kilometer or two, to make out the Republic freighter without enhancement. If their ship was a warbird, the fat freighter was more of a tradechicken. It had the typical curved look of Rihannsu warp dynamics, the demands of the nearly eternal singularity core spreading the mass out longitudinally, with tiny warp coils strung out on a vast wing, and a tiny control module in the front, with a series of cargo modules clutched underneath. She was the _Jade Helm_ by name, etched out in characters on her right flank.

The _Jade_ Helm's cargo was a series of useful but not vital weather control modules dedicated to one of the outlying systems, on the other side of the Azure Nebula from New Romulus. The crew was entirely Republic Navy volunteers. The trip would take days longer if the Nebula was avoided, given the slow warp speed of a freighter. The fringes were as deep as they would go – no one sane went deep into the Nebula, where pockets of gas and radiation could prevent one from jumping to warp, and odd gravimetric and chronometric phenomenon would knock you right out of subspace.

But the Tholian Assembly never minded those things, with their strange ways of bypassing normal spacetime, and rumored access to more exotic continua. And now the Republic had placed its capital on the best available world, bringing plenty of exotic technology within reach of the Nebula.

"If it is not the Tholians, I will be very surprised – helm, bring us a hundred meters closer on their starboard wing," An'riel said. The helmsman shot her a look, which An'riel made a note of. "Uhlan T'Vek, there is no shame in suffering from stress. There is shame in refusing relief when your physical limits are met," she said. The Uhlan gritted her teeth and brought them closer, proximity alarms starting to chime. If the ship had been uncloaked, they would have been in the freighter's shadow from the light cast by the bright nebula.

"I have heard you can, with care, slip in or match warp fields with another ship to have increased endurance at warp speeds while showing a single warp signature," An'riel said speculatively, turning to Hiven. T'Vek was starting to look positively pale at the thought.

Hiven pointed out, "That requires a very delicate helm control, and probably better engineering computers than we have to stop from generating a harmonic that would blow the coils of both ships." T'Vek sighed in relief, then straightened as the bridge turned to her.

"True, a shame," An'riel said, deciding to finish teasing. "Still, an idea to keep in mind for the future. T'Vek, we have computer and sensor data priority to your console, and the _Jade Helm_ is no agile eagle. Its evasive maneuvers are our casual turns, and you have their planned course. Keeping us in their shadow from the nebula is our best help at observing whatever is ambushing."

 _We hope_ , she added mentally. That had been the crux of the debate, where to put the ship. An'riel had argued long and hard against the normal cloaked ambush position, since that was standard, and standard patrols and convoys had disappeared. If it was some sort of proximity effect, they'd be lost. Which is why they'd rigged a communication buoy to transmit in thirty-six hours with their entire intended mission profile. No one at Republic Command knew their plan exactly, and if someone was leaking from the volunteers, they weren't broadcasting from _Jade Helm_. _Resp Invictus_ was close enough to read, even on passive, the RF variance of their replicators, let alone their transmitters.

"Three jumps, helm," An'riel continued. "For navigation fixes and to avoid anomalies. We will be using the course corrections _Jade Helm_ is using along with our long-range sensors on passive," Jalel had shaken his head when he'd seen this part, more risk than normal for Starfleet, "as planned. Lateral and short-range sensors to full gain as soon as we clear from warp at each stop. I want everything, even the spectral analysis of any asteroids in the area, and we will run level 4 diagnostics on our log buoys at each point to verify they are ready for ejection. Bring us in close as soon as you can, we know what direction it will be lurching." That got some minor laughs.

"Battle alert, my children," she said formally. The chimes began, the lights dimmed slightly, and there was a brief echo of movement around the ship, slighter than usual, nearly everyone was ready. "Emissions protocol violation authorized – tightbeam _Jade Helm_ , they are cleared to proceed."

The first jump has proceeded normally, a dogleg to avoid a section of rough subspace and gravimetric eddies, but leaving them in sight of New Romulus. It was a practice warp-jump, basically. None of the losses were reported here. Yet. An'riel thought briefly of what she had said to Do'vek and smiled humorlessly.

Now was the second jump, and as they emerged from warp the bridge let out a breath as one. "The Tholians may use subspace like we do gravity, but they do not appear to be affecting the warp-in interface," An'riel said to Tovan on a private line. To the bridge, she directed. "Full amplification to passive sensors – all teams on standby for analysis. Compare to all available baselines. All discretionary computer power."

Tovan, who was better trained in the art of the ambush, An'riel had to admit, mused and then suggested, "I know there's been some theoretical thoughts of targeting ships at the moment of emergence, but it's nearly impossible to predict the exact spot from one dimension to the other." Which was true now – _Jade Helm_ had popped in fifty kilometers behind them, and An'riel's _Mogai_ was hurrying quietly into position. "Also – the Tholians want capture, not destruction. It's more your field for interactions of two space-times, but I can't imagine doing anything to a warp bubble that wouldn't shatter its contents."

"True – speaking of bubbles – tactical spotting any gradients in local matter density from our passage?" An'riel said, concerned. This didn't seem like a good ambush point – a few moderate sized cold rocks in the distance, radiation and ionization were well within normal for the nebula. It could be studded with passive sensors, but nothing seemed to be broadcasting.

Tovan shook his head, "From our perspective – gravimetric effect of the cloak appears to behaving perfectly fine – visual observation is showing negative disruption – we'd have trouble if this gets any denser. Though I guess that goes for them as well."

"Intelligence does not say the Tholians have cloaks," An'riel said, straight-faced. Tovan laughed, on cue. "But spectral analysis is running, and the particles are a bit denser by the rocks. Their impulse engines run a bit hot – I think we would be able to see some back-scatter at this range if they have a scout out and an attack force hidden behind the rocks. Even then, I cannot imagine a large group, even as disciplined as the Tholians are reputed, to move quickly enough to prevent _all_ our ships getting a warning out."

Tovan promised, "I'll keep looking for anything on that end."

"An'riel to Veril – singularity status?" she called over the comm. What else was unique to Rihannsu ships?

"Behaving exactly in parameters," Veril replied grumpily, "We really feel half-crippled down here."

"I promise you can get to your usual level of excellence later," An'riel reassured her, "Once we know that is not what they are using to track."

"I'm holding you to that," the Reman replied, closing the channel.

"Any communication traffic from _Jade Helm_ , Jalel?" An'riel asked. The Trill shook his head, and his captain tapped the armrest on her chair, chafing at the passivity, before catching herself.

 _I am not just reacting, I am anticipating, and I have freedom in my actions. I am free_ , she repeated to herself internally. It was getting easier. Slowly. Having something to shoot would help.

"One of the astrometrics ratings just reported something," Satra said, eyes unfocused as she listened on directional. "The elemental content of the asteroid just changed relative to previous points by three percent towards heavier elements."

"We are using the same reflected light source?" An'riel asked. Satra nodded, sending data to An'riel's console with the timestamps. Apparently, very slightly, the light of the suns deep in the Nebula had… blue shifted slightly.

"Call me a liar, and I said the Tholians did not know gravity. Elements, give me the wisdom to know when to speak," she said under her breath. Then, more loudly, "Satra- tell your team good work. T'Vek, prepare for emergency maneuvering, and plot a course to take us around the asteroids from the far side, not in between them. Tovan, targeting solution on passive between the asteroids. Ready for point defense."

Tovan braced himself lightly, "At this angle with the freighter in the way, we have maybe forty percent available firepower," he reported, "Probably twenty percent considering no weapons lock on passive."

"We will have more when we turn," An'riel said, fighting for calm, "And if what is happening that I suspect, there is a power source there large enough to be locked onto from Hobus."

Hiven reported it first, "Impulse power source detected – multiples! High-speed and bracketing us!"

Jalel, a little behind, "Massive jamming across all long-range frequencies. Someone's devoting most of a warp core to it," the Trill said.

"Tactical," An'riel ordered, leaning forward subconsciously. The hunt may be on, and An'riel followed her natural inclination in the situation – to gamble. "Maintain cloak."

The display resolved, multiple tracks with probability cones for targets that were resolving…. to hit points at ninety degree angles and classic escort distances to _Jade Helm_ , with two more reserved for the classic Republic-standard ambush postures.

Several bridge crew members shifted uncomfortably at that. An'riel stilled herself, "Anything you can on those torpedoes. Report on _Jade Helm_. Continue matching its movements"

"Unable to spot any launchers, but backtracking trajectories," Satra said. " _Jade Helm_ is turning forty degrees to starboard. Energy levels in warp coils indicate plasma building to warp. At least fifteen seconds to go."

Hiven reported, "I am running the torpedoes against the databases – I couldn't get a good look at their targeting scan through the cloak since they weren't angled at us."

"High radiation levels in the warheads? Maybe someone managed to shield a warhead engine against tricobolt?" An'riel suggested. One torpedo for each sight. That spoke of hubris, or possibly something very powerful.

"Maybe given analysis we can – they're launching against _Jade Helm!_ " Hiven interjected.

Once again, a single torpedo. An'riel frowned. She closed her eyes. Wanting to hurt it back, to stop this – that would have gotten her killed in the Tal Shiar. Those instincts had let her survive, that had to be her ruling passion.

She gave no orders to intercept. The ungainly freighter dumped all its energy to shields, they flared as power spilled out of the emitters, inefficient but effective. The torpedo struck in a flare of shaped radiation… and then _Jade Helm_ died, shields, engines, sensors, and its distress call cutting out at the same time, even as exotic energy still played along its engines. A glance at tactical showed no effort was being made to restore power.

Satra frowned, her hands clenched, throat working not to wretch. "All power emissions ceased on _Jade Helm_ , including life support and gravity generation. I see no effort at all to activate emergency power, and…" she shook herself. "I, I think, An'riel – there were two radiation bursts."

"What?" An'riel began to ask.

"Tholian _Mesh Weaver_ appearing on sensors from between asteroid designates Alpha and Beta at half impulse," Hiven interrupted.

"Stand by evasive maneuvering," An'riel said, "Confirm _Mesh Weaver_."

"Single _Mesh Weaver_ confirmed," Hiven said.

"Move us to stand-off posture, T'Vek," An'riel ordered, "Maintain emissions silence." _Jade Helm_ made no move or reaction to the Tholian's presence. The _Mesh Weaver_ was a tiny thing, a blue and gold tetrahedron. The Tholians used it as a frigate, and it was a tiny thing - dwarfed by their ship, and the freighter. It approached steadily, making no other hostile moves. Its nose flickered with golden light on arrival, the freighter being wrapped in a web of the same energy. Turning very ponderously with its cargo, the frigate began to move back towards the asteroids, far more slowly.

An'riel fairly leaped out of her chair. "Satra, show me what you have, analysis and the original feeds," she requested as she moved to stand by science, not watching the screen. "T'Vek, try to keep _Jade Helm_ between us and the _Mesh Weaver_ at the moment. Hiven, any identification you can get on the torpedo?"

"Databanks are running slowly, Subcommander. Processing everything on passive is slowing reaction time," Hiven said.

An'riel debated for several long seconds, "Continue passive and keep log buoy ready," she finally ordered, "Whatever can kill a freighter in a second we dare not trust our first guess."

It took a moment to confirm what Satra was hesitant to say – two different radiation spikes had brushed the passive sensors of _Resp Invictus_ even through the twisted cloak – though the second was faint and nearly the same time as the first. Only their proximity had let them spot it – though much closer and they may have been irradiated by whatever had happened.

"Gamma spikes? Very high intensity – the Elements are smiling that they did not spot it through the cloak – Jalel, take a team and check for radiation contamination, deck one, central section," An'riel ordered.

"I know I have seen this," she said to Satra as the Trill left, "But not usually while a ship was intact, and we have been fortunate enough to see it from the Empire more. Tovan, please secure the bridge." Tovan caught the direction of her eyes, and pulled his sidearm, moving to stand in front of the door to the bridge office with the reporter inside.

Satra looked at it again, and then tapped the astrometric database. "You're right – black body radiation."

"Yes," An'riel said, "The Tholians may have invented a singularity killer. Time for _Mesh Weaver_ to intercept asteroids?"

"Four minutes, and impossible," Hiven said, "Anything like that must rely on some standardization to affect so many ships, especially through shielding, structural integrity fields, and hulls."

"Oh – good," An'riel said, relieved she would not have to murder crew members to save her people. "But we do not know what," An'riel said, "Our Duty is…" she tapped the console. They could go, report in. The Republic would get their allies to look into it – but when things got dangerous, the Republic hid, would be what their enemies say. History apparently wasn't done with them. "Prepare a buoy with eighteen hours delay with all our information. Send everything we had on _Jade Helm's_ status to Veril. We must pursue and if possible, recapture _Jade Helm_. Its engineering logs could be the key to saving our shipping."

"They won't drop the web until it reaches wherever it's going," Tovan said, "Though where, I have no idea. I can't imagine the Tholians being able to build a whole base this close to the shipping lanes and get it hidden."

"Maybe a parent craft like a _Tarantula_ ," An'riel theorized. "Or possibly a holding cell on an asteroid? Intelligence indicated the Tholians take prisoners for information. Warships would certainly have enough internal shielding and emergency power against a radiation spike for survivors, at least distantly from engineering."

"In any case, we cannot engage yet until we can identify the operation's scope, and if there is a parent craft, moving between the _Mesh Weaver_ and it risks a tachyon detection net. They clearly came prepared for cloaked craft."

"And cocky," Tovan muttered, to equally muttered agreements. A single torpedo at each point was almost dismissive.

"Yes," An'riel said, "All right – Tovan, you can return to your seat. If someone could check with Jalel and have him return at his convenience. With care and skill, we can survive this. Continue pursuit."

The _Mogai_ pursued steadily but slowly behind the frigate with its lumbering cargo, before it finally vanished with a shimmer like heat haze. An'riel held her breath for a few seconds, but no precautionary salvo of torpedoes was being unleashed. Perhaps the _Mesh Weaver_ was the only component. Space was starting to show a distinct bulge as they closed.

"Anything on passive from that?" An'riel asked Hiven.

"Spatial distortion effects are becoming more obvious as we close. They may be using the asteroids to help hide any mass or energy readings, but it's difficult to confirm on passive," the scientist reported, "I suspect it's only a partial cloak from one direction, similar to a photonic construct but from a different path."

"Increase pursuit rate by ten percent," An'riel ordered, "T'Vek, emergency evasive, any angle, as soon as we pass through." The helmswoman nodded.

 _Resp Invictus_ slipped through the point in space – and suddenly proximity alerts were going off as the vision on screen spun, a dozen objects hanging in space. T'Vek cursed, and slammed the helm controls, the ship suddenly skewing into a spin as it passed into relatively clear space.

"Status?" An'riel asked as the alarms suddenly cut off, clutching her chair as the adrenaline spike wore off.

"Multiple objects. _Mesh Weaver_ has turned fifteen degrees to approach asteroid designate Beta. No attempts at weapon lock detected. There appears to be a navigation beacon placed on its current course. Multiple structures behind us and a fusion reactor bearing forty mark two-ten. Appears to be linked to the structures via microwave beams. I'm spotting at least one launcher on it. Fusion reactor…. Difficult to tell output, but spectral readings on its intercoolers indicate power approaching that of a starship," Satra said. "Let me play the buffer back."

The image An'riel had glimpsed for a moment replayed – multiple tetrahedral (of course, for the Tholians) structures, pyramids with their bases aimed at the section of space behind them.

Hiven added, "Reading distortions consistent with deflector and high energy photon grids – appears to be a minor subspace mirroring, though at an impressive scale."

An'riel nodded at that, "Get any details you can," she said absently, intrigued. "I know the Empire experimented with them for larger structures, but the neutrino signatures from the reactors needed were always a problem. It has always been considered a party trick in cloak technology."

"Tholian particle technology seems a little ahead," Hiven said, "You'll need to talk to Veril, but I'd guess sixty percent of that beast's output is just dedicated to hiding its output – it's very brute force and complicated – any desync to any of those transmitters and the whole illusion collapses."

"Tovan, start lining up a shot if we need it," An'riel said. "Any idea what is at the navigation beacon? Also – what is that launcher?"

Satra was studying, "Getting conflicting thermal and stellar output ratings. Including more than a touch of tetryon radiation, subspace is involved, but it seems overlapsed on real space. As to the launcher – I think it's not shielded enough for a weapon-grade mass driver. Possibly a message torpedo or probe launcher? A few seconds on active would help."

An'riel replied, "Negative, yet – do scans show any signs of inhabitation on the asteroids?" Both science officers shook their heads. "Then all this equipment is fully automated, a small spur of some vast web." The subcommander raised her hands theatrically, then subsided, "Whatever root to burn out is, it is through that – and if a dead ship can make the transit, I am sure we can too. Resume pursuit course."

* * *

The innocuous looking piece of space gave no indication of its secrets as they approached, and the _Mesh Weaver_ did not seem to make any special changes to pass through. There was a brief burst of tetryon radiation, confirming some sort of subspace interaction, and then the frigate and its ill-gotten cargo was gone. _Resp Invictus_ then approached in turn, and passed in smoothly, revealing another starfield.

To the equipment, anyway, it was smooth. An'riel felt her perceptions leap, and blur – inner ear doing somersaults as it felt like she was processing a different sensorium. When her vision began to clear, she found she had fallen out of her chair – so had most of the rest of the bridge crew, and someone was dry heaving.

There was a hiss of a hypospray and her vision cleared further, she could feel with her hands on deck a tremor – the ship was wallowing. Jalel had returned, apparently. "Stimulant," he said, "Trill nervous systems are more flexible it seems." An'riel nodded her thanks and held her hand for it.

"I can check the remaining bridge crew – get T'Vek back on helm if she can," An'riel ordered. Jalel gave her the hypospray and went to the bridge replicator for another. She glanced at the repeater – but only briefly – most systems had dropped to standby with the crew incapacitated, but since they were not dead, the cloak was clearly operational.

To her eternal gratitude and luck in having such a good crew, stations were manned in under a minute, though Satra gave the main science station to an Uhlan to go oversee the rest of the medical response. The ship's wings spread again – the tremor subsided as its drive rebalanced, and they could take a look around. Tovan gave a low whistle, and An'riel couldn't blame him.

A dozen asteroids, any of them moonlet sized, were linked and covered in web, several hundred kilometers away in space. Nearby space in range of their passive was positively chattering from dozens of navigation beacons scattered at apparent random – judging by each beacon was backed by a dozen weapon turrets, they were apparently more passageways.

And in a tight array of parking orbits near the asteroids were dozens of Republic vessels, and a few from the Republic's backing powers, as well, though those were smaller. But that paled to the prize that floated among the beacons, much closer.

"Jalel, I have seen them in silhouettes, please confirm that is a Federation ship at three four zero mark twenty," An'riel said, cutting across the stilled bridge.

"That's all I've seen, Subcommander, but you're right – that's a _Wells_ -class timeship. There's been a few showing up adrift from… some timeline, is all we know," the Trill said glumly. "Maybe the Tholians' are selling their leftovers to fund all this. Ma'am, as your liaison, and given the potential impact on the timestream, Starfleet has an extreme interest in any examples of temporary displaced persons, craft, or technology."

"So does every sane power, Lieutenant," An'riel said, "But I think Starfleet has you too honest. It is perfect for a smash-and-grab, so we will ignore the bait and continue. Bring us in away from any active scanners close to the group of ships, I want to start reviewing our sensor logs. Senior officer meeting in fifteen minutes, to begin planning our next move. Let me know when the _Mesh Weaver_ is finished moving." On screen, the tiny frigate was still lugging its cargo – including the bodies – towards the asteroid complex. Sparing it an angry glance, An'riel strode for the bulkhead to the office.

* * *

Do'vek was waiting in the office, and stood up from the desk where he had been observing tactical on a monitor. If he'd picked up that a Rihannsu soldier had been placed to kill him if needed, he gave no sign, but then, free press or no, he was Rihannsu himself.

But he wasn't her crew. She sat down heavily behind the desk, looking at the tactical map. "So, we have heroically found the monster's lair and the treasure inside. What does history suggest is the next move here?"

"Go back, get a squadron, and burn this place down, leaving no witnesses," Do'vek said automatically. "That would be the _Star Empire's_ traditional response."

An'riel winced. "That did occur to me," she admitted, "But I also know what history would suggest would happen if we go and tell our allies that the vaunted technology and ships the Republic are completely useless from our first external crisis."

Do'vek winced at that, "The Federation and the Klingon Empire would almost be certain to insist taking over security patrols over most of the routes near the Azure Nebula," Do'vek admitted.

An'riel started paging through the logs. "So instead, we heroically brave the spider's web, it seems. Is it a heroic exploit worthy of news if there do not seem to be any options?" Something had to occur – some hint of an energy signature, some way to defend that would appear without the technology itself… and maybe it would, but not in fifteen minutes, not in this universe.

Do'vek said flatly, "Your choices are clear because of who you are, and that's why D'Tan is interested. An unbiased observer could appreciate logic leading to a dozen different outcomes, any of which could be argued to hold true to honor. But to be true to yourself and mnehi'sahe, you see your path constrained." Do'vek shook his head, "Honor can be strange like that in any culture, the danger of losing face to one self. I admire it – by the time my head stopped spinning, I know I was ready to turn right back around," he said shame-facedly.

"Do'vek," An'riel said gently, "I think by most standards, that qualifies you as a sane member of society. Compare to me and my crew. _My_ next task is to find a way to break into a secured Tholian facility, rescue who I can, liberate examples of their technology, and return it to our new Homeworld. I would invite you to participate, for any extra advice you can give, or thoughts into Tholian mindsets." An'riel smiled sadly, "For it feels like there is no other option." She swept a hand grandly, "Constrained…" she paused, and switched over to an engineering schematic. "Ah."

* * *

By the time the meeting started, An'riel had thrown a chart of local space up on the wall of the office, the sensor satellites all marked out, as well as three additional _Mesh Weavers_ moving slowly through the complex. Next to the map was a picture of _Jade Helm_ with a complicated series of subspace equations next to it.

"Thank you all for being ready – I am afraid I got off track for planning the raid, but I believe I may have found our objective. Veril," An'riel said, "Check my math – manipulation of gravitational constants is one of the easier effects of warp fields, and Tholian torpedoes already use subspace disruption as their warhead…."

The Reman peered, eyes flickering, and then she hissed before breaking in an impressive stream of profanity. When it ended, she said, "Oh, I think we need to guard against this even if it isn't what they're doing, but damned if I know."

"What?" Satra asked, "You lost me about three field inversions in." Hiven, meanwhile, had picked it up and was cursing about

Veril said, "Oh that's the how. As to the what, look at the second line." Satra peered, and the Reman continued, starting to pace, "They must be losing some serious overall warhead yield, so they should be easy to spot. Targeting with this sort of field effect… I bet we can jam it, it must just be on our single biggest graviton source. Give me an industrial set of fabricators and I can probably come up with something."

Satra was tapping on a PADD to finish some of the math, then said, "Oh, that's monstrous, do they know what it's doing?"

"They must," An'riel said, "They certainly did not bother worrying about troops or resistance. It is… self-disposing." An'riel's face twisted. "Pest control, perhaps in their mind, Commander Do'vek?"

"I was lost at the first field inversion," the reporter said. Tovan raised a hand in agreement, and after a few beats, so did Jalel.

Veril and An'riel shared a glance, and Veril saluted her captain briefly, letting her explain to the soldiers in the room. The subcommander settled in to lecture, "It must take a great deal of the torpedo's energy, and may require additional equipment installations, but, it is a different variation on some of the subspace techniques we have seen today already. One of the side-effects of subspace field manipulation is changes in graviton, and even graviton mirroring, how we prevent a cloaked ship from being detected via mass."

She tapped at the _Jade Helm_ 's singularity core on the diagram. "As part of the subspace transition of warp travel, we have to occlude briefly the mass interactions of the ship with the rest of the universe. That is relatively easy. Tholian thermionic torpedoes use Tholian subspace technology to effectively drop our power levels in weapons or engines by disrupting some of those interactions, but another use of the 'chaff' subspace field on the torpedo is to briefly occlude a point mass source's interaction with space."

"They're turning off the singularity core?" Tovan asked, "That would explain the power drain, but… the whole system at once?"

"Technically, they are turning off the high-mass rectifier at its center that we use for moderation of our plasma generation reaction, by briefly negating its gravitational effect," An'riel said, feeling the role of expositor.

Veril rolled her eyes and cut her fun. She said, "Laymen's terms – the Tholians have found a way, for the moment, of literally boiling the black holes out of our ships – and all that energy becomes a very strong, very hard gamma ray pulse."

Tovan looked sick. Jalel didn't look much better – glancing down at the floor as if the ship's own was about to evaporate. An'riel said quietly, "The only merciful thing is that anyone on board would not have survived long." Her hands clenched.

Veril offered, "On the other hand – this probably requires some bulky additional equipment. I hope. I can draw up some schematics of what their torpedoes normally look like, so our security teams know what to look for. And the automated engineering logs would probably be enough I can start twisting our core's shielding, which _may_ help. We'll burn some extra fuel, but we're pretty close to friendly depots." She looked gleeful at that, which An'riel, privately and very guiltily, always thought was rather terrifying.

Tovan mused, "We've spotted at least three more frigates as their patrol groups – if they didn't have instakill weapons, I'd say this is as weak as their system defense will get and we just do this the brute way. But under cloak, we can't risk many transports. Four teams?"

An'riel glanced at the map, "Satra – Hiven, see if you can map any dead zones for their scanners to let us get additional lifts." The two nodded. "Hiven, you get to watch the ship – I think this definitely calls for command on site with an away team." Technically, the bridge crew's job was here, but An'riel preferred to lead from the front. "Jalel, go over your security teams with Tovan and Veril – I am willing to accept reduced efficiency by breaking the teams up for better technical coverage. Volunteers, as much as possible." The three nodded. "Do'vek, I suspect that may be some useful footage, if you would like to interview the crew."

"Thank you, Subcommander," Do'vek said with a small bow.

An'riel stood up, and said, "Once the _Mesh Weaver_ deposits its cargo we will conduct some phased active sensor sweeps before moving into transporter range. Satra, are any of the ships holding prisoners?"

Satra looked grim, "These seem to have all been picked over – no subspace fields or heat sources detected on board, and visual has shown the silhouettes are off – pieces of the hull appear to have been removed. If they do have prisoners, they're probably in the ships at the asteroid complexes, or on the complexes themselves."

An'riel rubbed her forehead, and said, "I wish they could be our top priority, but we could spare possibly four hundred crew at most, not enough to liberate an unfamiliar warship under these conditions, and we will certainly not have enough transporter operations for a strike group that size."

Do'vek offered, "You've gotten a nav fix on here – it should be less of an issue if KDF and Starfleet forces are led by Republic ships _back_ here once they're protected, right?" An'riel gave a grateful nod at that. It was a good point.

"One piece of good news," Veril said, "I was going to say earlier, but the singularity core on this ship is nearly brand new – I think I can coax it into creating some pretty convincing decoys if we need to get under cloak fast."

"That is good news," An'riel said, "How long would they last?" Veril's shrug was eloquent in its terseness. An'riel said warmly, "Still, being able to run decoys from their torpedoes instantly will make this easier – I cannot expect our beam out will be easy."

She stood up, "You have your tasks – as soon as possible after _Jade Helm_ is deposited, have your gear ready to go – the Republic as a space-faring power will depend in some small but very real way on our actions in the next few hours. The Tholians often seem cold and methodical, but as 'nonviolent' as this is, it has killed _thousands_. We _must_ do what we can to end this." The crew saluted, dispersing.

* * *

The _Mesh Weaver_ drove slowly up to one of the asteroids, the web ensnared in an additional layer as the base facilities took _Jade Helm_ and pulled it into one of the bays. _Resp Invictus_ hovered, cloaked among the derelicts, slowly putting together a picture of Tholian operations.

"New contact," Satra said suddenly, "Small – high energy. Some sort of drone – it's halting. Unable to get visual."

" _Mesh Weavers_ Beta through Delta are changing course, they're headed towards the base," Hiven said. " _Mesh Weave_ r Alpha is changing course… settling onto bearing."

"Nimble, aren't they?" Tovan murmured, updating the targeting protocols.

"Final bearing?" An'riel said irritably. If they had been spotted, that was it, with limited maneuvering.

"Bearing is… opposing tentative drone's current heading," Hiven said.

"More prey for the web," An'riel and Tovan said simultaneously. Tovan ducked his head briefly. An'riel deigned not to notice.

"We cannot allow the _Mesh Weavers_ to form a tight patrol," An'riel said. "Cease high-gain passive, configure sensors for combat, computer and power priority to tactical systems. Helm, plot intercept course against _Alpha_ , maximum speed. Tovan, if your teams can work their magic on the weapons."

Tovan grinned, not with humor, "All weapon systems' diagnostics are green. Containment systems for torpedoes on standby for overload. Cannon thermal loops at maximum capacity."

"Excellent," An'riel said, "Execute intercept course, T'Vek. Deflector control and impulse control, stand by to execute subnucleonic attack." It took someone willing to spend far too long figuring how to make the deflector work with other systems, but a nice spray of micro-particles to spot-overload computer and nervous systems did a wonderful job slowing enemy response. And, from a moral point of view, it was nonlethal compared to gamma radiation – they'd do this the old fashioned way, with guns.

 _Resp Invictus_ shifted from her hiding place on sprays of deuterium, before her impulse drive pulsed to life. The _Mesh Weaver_ , much lighter without its grim cargo, headed towards one of the navigational beacons among many, and An'riel ordered more and more power to engines to catch up to weapons range.

"Tovan, you will have to move fast, or we will need to break off to avoid the turrets guarding the beacon," An'riel warned, "Do me proud." Her exec nodded.

A few seconds past as they grew closer, target resolving more finely. An'riel had gotten a sense of the timing, and finally said, "Return power to weapons – torpedo to maximum yield. Cannons, turrets – maximum cycle. Subnucleonic beam, all weapons – fire! Clear the tubes! Fire! Burn them down!"

 _Resp Invictus_ popped into view, a sparrowhawk hunting a spider, already spitting fire. The _Mesh Weaver_ , to its credit, started to turn almost immediately, but the larger ship had a near perfect angle. Streams of plasma burst against the deflectors, which did their best to absorb as a fat plasma torpedo moved in inexorably. Defense systems started to come up, then spasmed as fleeting radiation overloaded circuits.

Plasma bolt after bolt slammed in, shield emitters dropping out in series as they reached capacity, with spot overloads melting and causing minor explosions, even against the Tholians' strange atmosphere. The shield died, chunks starting to fall out of the _Mesh Weaver's_ rear hull before the torpedo arrived, with a silent scream of an explosion as the ship was devoured.

Just as silent, and just as angry, the three escort frigates began to from up and head to their direction. Scattering from them were a dozen probes, racing towards destinations. The frigates formed up, brief flashes of tachyons between them.

"A fitting pyre, I think," An'riel said. She wanted the others, oh she wanted the others, but against three one could not trust the angles, and all they had to do was hit once. "Continue towards the portal, reengage cloak. Maximum power to thrusters as soon as full cloak, dive us around the ships and towards the complex." The warbird dived, the feather patterns on the dead warbirds helping shield _Resp Invictus_. "Tovan, Jalel, ready the security teams. We have our window now."

* * *

Now that they were able to use sensors to some degree, even cloaked it didn't take long to paint a picture of the base. An'riel looked at the proposed patterns as she was strapping on an EV suit in the transporter room. "I agree - it is too big. They must have had the complex in storage, waiting for someone to take back control of Tau Dewa," she said to Tovan as he was checking his grenade timers. Behind her, Jalel and Satra were checking weapon sights as Veril was methodically loading herself down with fabrication components.

"Lucky us," he said wryly. "Still, it can't have been heavily customized for whatever this weapon was. We hit the big machine shops, it should have installation mechanisms or blueprints." The plan was simple – find the biggest cavern full of machinery and shoot what they could. The ships still under dissection were too shielded for their transporter operators to reach, but An'riel had picked one two floors down from a collection of non-silicate life forms. Maybe they'd get lucky.

"That will be up to Veril. Scan everything, of course," An'riel said, "Shoot what you can, and remember – if they are at an active console, that gets priority." Tovan nodded, and padded a hip pocket – several chips with the latest intrusion variants courtesy of the Tal Shiar. The rest of the landing team had the same.

"An'riel, this is Hiven," came over the PA, "We're as close as we can – we've rigged some decoys to be sent over to cause some distractions, but the secondary teams will be scattered a bit."

"I only ask for miracles, not expect them," An'riel said. "All teams, this is shipmaster – ready final checks." She ran down the last diagnostic on Tovan's EV suit as he did the same, and gave a brief thumb's up. The five moved into position on the transporter pad. Only a few seconds passed, before the transporter technician nodded. "Energize," she said, and vanished into light.

* * *

Reality resolved again in a high-pitched shriek that was the Tholian alarms. Clad in a lightly armored environmental suit, reality in the high temperature environment appeared distorted, and hellish. It fit An'riel's mood. The Tholians around skittered somewhat in surprise – and then began to fall as the crew opened up.

Finally, she had a chance to look around, putting a feed from her tricorder to put in wireframe what looked twisted. Surrounding them seemed to be fiber-optic conduit and freight movers. Farther away was a set of computers and fabricators. She gestured in that direction, and the others nodded.

Seven hundred meters away through corridors was an empty dock – it was hoped the equipment here might be what they were looking for. Four hundred meters to the right of it and up a deck was a possible prison – with a long winding series of tunnels connecting to an occupied dock with a captured ship. And… her suit chimed as fifty meters away, one of the big Tholians chittered into view, clutching some weapon.

An'riel ducked behind a forklift as a beam sizzled the hot air, making her shields flicker briefly. She brought up a pistol and snap-fired, the Tholian's structure absorbing the bolt, though its own gleam died a bit. It stopped moving to steady its aim, a glow surrounding… before it was caught in the side in a hail of plasma fire. Five EV-suited figures, one of the strike teams, waved from off to the side as they readied their own overwatch.

The Tholian screeched and started to run away. "Any team – elder Tholian," she said over short-range, "I would like it removed. Setting its position."

"I have it," Jalel said quietly, kneeling down with a sniper rifle. It moved, very little but exaggerated in the heat, and then bucked once. An'riel nodded, impressed. Tovan whistled.

The team moved through the sporadic firefight, reaching the bank of fabricators. An'riel slotted a set of data cards in and, tapped her tricorder, unleashing a small swarm of virii. The others kept their guns up, except Veril, who was assembling a small short-lived shield generator. Brief echoes of gunfire provided the screaming alarm a counterpoint.

The console, abused and overwhelmed, suddenly beeped, granting access, convinced An'riel was the High Poobah Tholian, or whatever the equivalent was. Immediately, she shut off the damn alarm. "Veril, take a look at this, please," she said.

"Oh, yes," the Reman fairly hissed as she observed the directory. "Satra – get a scan of those casings over there. They even put a FAQ in," she said, laughing.

"Subcommander," came one of the other teams, "Team 3. We've secured the passage to the closest docks, but we've a runner – it's going to head near your team."

"Understood," An'riel said. "Veril – do you need any more computer wizardry at the moment?" she asked. The suited figure shook her head, gleeful.

"All right, hold position. Teams 2 and 4 – continue sweep. Team 5 – are you in position towards the holding cells?" she asked.

"Negative, Subcommander – we hit a group with plasma welders – I'm short two personnel," came the breathless voice of one of her troops.

"Understood – move as you can," An'riel said, and started to move, but Tovan grabbed her arm.

"What, it is just one?" she said. "I can make sure it is not trying to shut down the gravity or the power to the room, and if a cluster of Tholians show up, I will see them on the tricorder and double back. I need you here to ready the defense if I come running back."

"Fine. Don't get killed, An'riel," Tovan said, "We just got you back."

"I know, but I… standing around is not a good idea for me yet, Tovan," An'riel said quietly. Her friend merely nodded, and An'riel broke into a run.

* * *

The Tholian was… slippery. An'riel followed the Republic Navy's physical training requirements, but apparently this Tholian doubled as a sprinter. She hadn't caught up, or caught signs of it doing any tampering, until she reached the area they'd tentatively set as holding cells.

And they were that, apparently – with a dozen Rihannsu in tiny force-cells with oxy-nitrogen atmospheres. Apparently something had confused the sensors, but the room also had apparently only the entrance she had come through. Perhaps a security feature. Several consoles were in the center of the room, but the Tholian was farther.

The Tholian howled – her translator indicated it was a low chuckle as it approached a set of bulkhead doors. Thick ones, from a glance at the tricorder. Cursing, An'riel raised her gun in wide-beam mode and fired, sending a broad wave of plasma down. The console hissed, spat and complained, the Tholian jumping back from it as An'riel continued to close. Something banged on the door from the other side.

Thinking about it – she stopped instead at the center consoles, and hooked into the system under her previous access. It was engineering, not security, but the system was much easier to lock down _farther_. As the Tholian started to move back to the console, it screeched in surprise again as An'riel threw a forcefield from the jail's systems in front of the bulkhead door.

She bent over to get more access, looking up briefly when the bulkhead doors were finally opened. A large Tholian leading several more were there, in full combat armor. It looked at the forcefield, and in apparent irritation, swung and clipped the technician. An'riel gave a tight smile, invisible in the suit, and went to work building herself a security profile.

"-hear me at all? Please, let us out!" came suddenly from the cells, as she cut the sound-proofing. Weirdly, environmental was easier to get than turning off the force fields, if she was reading the display right. Tholians had odd priorities. She studied them, a dozen Rihannsu in civilian clothes.

"Are you Navy? Please – our ship suddenly lost power – engineers all died, then the Tholians were on board," one of them stepped forward – a bit better dressed than the others.

She stood up, briefly. She loved the showmanship, she really did. "Subcommander An'riel tel'Rissei she'Virinat, Republic Navy. We are raiding this complex. You are very lucky," she said with a snappy salute, then went back to figuring how to pump in more oxygen. The force field nearby hissed – the Tholians had apparently decided to risk property damage. She glanced briefly to make sure they hadn't any field artillery – the console over there was in bad shape. She was willing to guess she could at least briefly outbypass them.

" _Her_?" one of them hissed. She smiled at that – maybe there was some advantages to the legend.

The first one shot a look, then spoke faster, "We think there's a general override. Ah yes – we were coming towards New Romulus. We'd heard about Subcommander Jarok and-"

An'riel froze. The Empire would have no reason to announce they'd lost a squadron. The Republic had not gotten their press release out.

Somehow, she had her gun up again, pointed at the cells, and from the splash of green fire around them, she had fired it. "You're Tal Shiar!" she said, staggered. They were _here_. Just _remove_ them, she had environmental – she could even dump oxygen from the cells into the Tholian air mix, it'd be nicely reactive, a tragic accident, no one would know….

They looked at her, backing up. They were showing fear, the vaunted Tal Shiar, faces going pale. _Rihannsu_ faces going pale. Some of the survivors of every disaster and ill thrown at them, and now… she'd fallen, somehow. At the console. She could pull the trigger again, it'd be the easy way, just as the voice had played in her head...

She climbed to her feet, "You lot – do not move. An'riel to _Resp Invictus,"_ she tapped her wrist comm, "Get ready to drop cloak – multiple prisoners that need to be taken into holding pending debriefing. Ready security teams to guard a cargo bay or two. Prepare some distraction packages."

"Un-Understood, Subcommander," came Hiven's voice, "The _Mesh Weavers_ have switched from a search pattern – I think they expect something coming through. We're nearly out of time."

"The ugly way then," she muttered, checking her security programs' progress. The virii had chewed the way up to giving her access to the lockdown, it seemed. And as the Tal Shiar had said… and a brief search – there was an override – she could flood all the air out of the corridors, an emergency vent, but the lockdown _should_ hold. Probably. She turned to the Tholians, and gave a slight bow, feeling a little guilty, and ducked as the forcefield briefly cut out, letting their beams, firing for disruption rather than her, play over the room, the reason she survived.

Then the hallway roared – air dumping out at the other side… where it ended, somewhere out of view in this twisted soup of an atmosphere, near the captured ship. The Tholians, caught by surprise, were knocked down the corridor as the pumps rapidly evacuated. She shut the lockdown down, and felt like falling again – the bulkheads raising, there were, oh Elements, dozens of people, maybe the hundreds _Invictus_ had seen on sensors, many in Republic uniforms. She could have killed them all. She could, however, perhaps save them too.

She reestablished the forcefield and switched to oxygen as she shut down the lockdown, causing a brief burst of flame as the atmospheres mixed… and reacted poorly. She blinked, her vision wavering from the light as her mind readjusted to compensate for normal vision. She could swear she saw Do'vek there for a moment, nodding.

She shook it off. "An'riel to Veril – how is it?"

"Excellent," the engineer said, "Unless you're a Tholian. Then it's a _really_ bad day – I've got a dozen complete torpedoes tagged and some support materials, and a dozen chips full of data. We won't be able to use them, it needs even more mass and space to charge them then we thought. Turns out they couldn't do the brute force way, there's some very tricky field manipulations in these warheads…"

"Good," An'riel said, "Can we defend against it?"

"It's a pretty clever exploitation of subspace, but I think a little time we can patch it. Not on board though, this will need some pretty good fabricators," Veril reported. "We need to be sneaky on the way out.

"At least it should be a quick fix, then," An'riel said relieved. The Republic would stand, at least a little while longer. "When we get out – I need you to ready environmental, we are carrying passengers."

"An'riel to _Resp Invictus_ , security teams ready?"

"Hiven here, subcommander – yes, just drop the fields and we can transport them directly… I hope you have everything, a message drone just came back from where the _Mesh Weavers_ are escorting."  
"We have enough, begin evacuation," An'riel said, hitting the forcefield control. The Tal Shiar, the Republic prisoners, innocent freighter crew, dissolved into light before she did herself.

* * *

"Hiven, get us moving to where we entered, get us under cloak," An'riel said as soon as she got back on board. She didn't bother with the EV suit as she started running to the turbolift. Shipmasters were generally supposed to be sedate, but instant-kill torpedoes were one of those exceptions.

"Already on it," the older Rihannsu replied. "Subspace traffic at the base has gone up exceptionally. You kicked over quite the next, it seems."

"I am sure Intelligence will have several months of good cheer examining the data we are bringing back," she said, holding the turbolift for the other bridge officers, except Veril, headed the other direction. "Security status?"

"They, ah, had to stun a few of the crowd once they got over – some of the military officers, or it seemed, were trying to rip some of the tramp freighter crewmen into pieces," Hiven reported.

"There seems to be a story there," An'riel said, relieved she didn't have loose Tal Shiar. Probably.

"May we all live to hear it," Jalel muttered.

"Elements on our side, yes," An'riel said, "Unfortunately, it is down to speed. We are fortunate this seems to be a mere garrison. If they were thinking-"

Hiven broke in, "Status update, Subcommander – something _big_ , probably a _Recluse_ just popped in. The _Mesh Weavers_ stopped flanking and started moving towards our exit point."

"If they were thinking," An'riel finished as they entered the bridge, "They would lay odds that they had been followed, and simply set up a barrage of torpedoes in the space we must fly through. Everyone to stations."

The tactical display told the story. The _Mesh Weavers_ , at full speed, were simply faster – and were moving to bracket the entrance.

"Drop cloak," An'riel ordered, "Begin charging singularity levels instead," she said. The _Weavers_ were being careful to not individually enter weapon range before they could swing around and vomit death at them. Someone with some command ability had just entered. "Download current log and, as available, copy data from strike team to probe to launch through anomaly," she ordered. "Overload torpedo launcher."

Jalel nodded and updated the feeds as the range dropped. "Sensor distortion package – target turrets," An'riel ordered. Tovan ahhed, as Hiven caressed the launch button. The turrets were between them and the _Mesh Weavers_ , and came into weapons range a few seconds later… and were in range of both forces. The _Mogai_ fired a probe full of material to briefly generate multiple power and shield signatures, and the turrets started to fire at the _Mesh Weavers_.

More importantly, the torpedo launchers fired at the _Mesh Weavers_ , and Veril had indicated it would be a while before they could fire again. The modified torpedoes splashed harmlessly against the Tholians, naturally, and the beam weapons weren't doing much better given the range. "Launch probe."

The small probe fired, engine flaring, impulse engine obvious to all. The confusion allowed it to pass the turrets, but the _Mesh Weaver_ sensors were fine. But given the barrage of fire, and the warbird angling… one simply fired a web wall between the probe and the portal. It would stabilize quickly, blocking any passage till time or a significant amount of firepower passed.

An'riel smiled, "Singularity jump, Veril – now." The ship lurched. They had been building for a little while… and had just enough spare gravimetric effect- the ship generated a micro-wormhole from its own core, suddenly from _there_ to _here_ … on the other side of the web wall from the Tholians.

"All hands, brace for entry!" An'riel had time to say before the universe briefly imploded... and resolved, a minute later with Jalel and the hypospray again. Space was still azure, as they were on impulse… but they were on the other side.

"Jalel: weapons, fire that heavy torpedo into the fusion reactor," An'riel said, and gently moved the quivering helms officer off the controls. "Then we can see about getting out of here."

"So, I am surprised you are still on board," An'riel said, meeting Do'vek at his table in the lounge, and pulling up a chair. Stars streaked past, their break had been clean once they'd passed through the bizarre subspace gateway. The Admiral was very pleased with their treasure trove of both Tholian data and prisoners. Republic ships would safely be able to navigate the complex, telling allies the best places to hit.

"Where would I go? When could I have left?" Do'vek said, confused.

"That is the question I am wondering, Commander," An'riel said, "Especially _when_."

"Subcommander," Do'vek said seriously, "I assure you, my job here was simply to document yourself, and your decisions – that may be in a larger context than you were aware, not to unduly alter or influence your actions as captain in this setting. It is my great desire to report history as it happens as a reporter, not spread a shadow or lean on it with the Tal Shiar. It's not always possible," he said.

Sounding philosophical, he continued, "And sometimes, the act of observation can be important for making something happen – it sounds like it got very dangerous over there, and no one would have been surprised if that had been your last mission. A single officer, alone, vulnerable… But I'm very glad it wasn't. There's a lot of people watching your career." Do'vek smiled, "I suspect your future may not be bright, but it may prove interesting, if you'd like the analysis of a humble reporter."

"… Fine," An'riel said, "I think I would be happier without hints. But do not look too complacent, Commander." Do'vek looked surprised at that, "I cut through more than one web today – I would not hold to predictions of yours." Last word achieved, An'riel stood, leaving towards the bridge. Duty, after all, had proven to remain.

Her thoughts were interrupted. "Tovan to An'riel," chimed her wrist comm, "Admiral Kererek got back to us – Starfleet Intelligence gave what they had on Tal Shiar movements. They were moving triggers, and Republic Intelligence got the pieces put together – dig out that desert gear from Vulcan, Admiral Kererek ordered us to head to Paradise."

* * *

Structural note: And we flow right into the 'Wasteland' series of official missions.

This was part of a series I did for a prompt on the official forums – technically 'War Correspondent', with the captain dealing with an embedded reporter – the first two instances, with An'riel, my usual Romulan spokescharacter, and Antonine, Federation admiral, deal with it more directly. D'ellian, Orion KDF officer, deals with more the aftermath.

A minor point of interest, Antonine's story was written first, but I've arranged these more 'chronologically' for this - I also reedited so the line breaks are in, yeesh,


	2. The Banality of War

"The Banality of War"

By tremor3258

Author's note: Set during 'Takedown'.

* * *

"And then the Malon said… now get this, 'That's not a mushroom, that's my wife!'" the table roared with laughter as Ken Nguyen, Special Features Correspondent to Tau Dewa (a job that got bigger, it seemed, every year) – Andorian Wire Services, retold for the seventh time this deployment the best of the 'local' stories he'd gotten out of the Benthan Ambassador.

Still, it kept him in synthehol and in good with the crews, and as long as he kept getting Delta Command to shift ships, he'd not run out of stories or have anyone think on the dates long enough to realize they'd have to start two years before anyone beside Janeway's bunch had been this deep in the Delta Quadrant. Mostly, they just wanted to hear how close he'd gotten to the dancers at the Vulcan National Ballet. He was just glad to finally be close to one of Starfleet's rising stars – surely there'd be something dramatic.

He looked around the main crew cafeteria, it wasn't as large as you'd figure for the 1100 crew on a _Guardian_ class like the _Trafalgar_ , but there were two smaller cafeterias in the secondary hull and staggered shifts. He leaned back in conspiratorially towards the starboard impulse deck, gamma shift crew, and asked, "So – we're out here, seeing the real final frontier, and I want to get some holopics later of all of you, but what about up there?" Ken brushed dyed black hair back reflexively and pointed towards the ceiling.

"The impulse deck? Oh, it just looks Borg, it won't eat you," the older rating as the group's leader assured him. After a moment's thought, one off the crewmen helpfully adjusted Ken's finger so he was pointing farther forward. "Oh, the Admiral! She usually eats here at least once a week," the aging human said. "She rotates. Captain Takerra usually eats here," he added helpfully.

Ken frowned and leaned forward. Subconsciously, so did the others, "I've been on board for four days," He pointed out, "I met her at the transporter room from the _T'dell_ , and that's all I've seen. I can interview stars and catch hypocrites all the time back home, but this is and I've barely seen her." The Admiral had greeted him, offered free run of the personnel sections of the ship, and then excused herself, citing her schedule.

There was an uneasy murmur at that. "She fought the Borg and the Undine, I was there for both. She's not scared of a reporter," the older rating, Callahan, said coolly. "This isn't some little dinkyscout ship like the _T'dell_. It's a big ship, you don't just 'run into' people, especially _flag officers_." There were some nods at that.

Ken looked around and decided to change tactics, saying, "Listen, guys – I know a ship, especially one as _big_ as this takes a lot of people to get working. And I know that of the very tiny percentage of the Federation who qualifies for Starfleet service." It was cheap, but they straightened a bit. He continued, "It's a big proportion on ships that serve on cruisers, from _Galaxies_ to _Odysseys_ , in peacetime or in war, even if we're building more escorts when the war's going on. I'm happy your story is going to get out."

"But, from a citizen anywhere out past Vega or in Paris, when you think of a ship, it's the bridge and especially captain that _is_ the ship from the average person's perspective, even if one person couldn't even keep life support running on their own. When I cut it together, it's her, not the flag captain, people will focus on. It's a gross simplification, but that's the feature business," Ken explained.

"Besides, she's the first of her species in Starfleet right? I'm sure they'd like a look on their favorite daughter," Ken said. "Starfleet Media Relations has an interview scheduled for me in a few days, but I want to see the young woman behind the rank pins. What does she do? What does she eat? What does that tattoo mean? Facial markings are always big" He started to talk faster, putting the pitch together in his head moments ahead, riding the wave towards ratings. "But it's not just her planet. Even what's unclassified on her dossier is amazing. One of the heroes of Vega, who helped Starfleet rise like a phoenix to keep us from enslavement by the Klingons or losing our souls to the Collective."

* * *

Ken was regretting that, a little, six hours later. He was in the admiral's private office, a sweltering affair on a deck higher than he'd been allowed before. It was a treasured one-on-one, though any cameras present were strictly Starfleet's, judging by the recording of the main cafeteria, courtesy of one of _Trafalgar's_ security pickups.

He felt himself wilting in his jumpsuit, but the female across from him looked perfectly at home even with the heat cranked up, damn her. "'Favorite daughter'," she quoted, looking amused, "Mister Nguyen, if you knew enough about my species-"

Okay, this was more familiar ground, "Admiral, the 'cultural differences' defense has been common to interviewers since First Contact back on Earth. I know very well your species carries to term, typically as single fetuses and has a familial structure," Ken leaned back and tried to think of summer at the Home Office, comfortably at freezing point. "And I know the tattoo is an old-fashioned matrilineal symbol."

"Sorry," the Admiral replied, looking a bit abashed, "You're right, that was crude. Regardless, Mister Nguyen-"

"Ken, if you don't mind," he said, trying to make his teeth glint through the sweat.

"Ken," she allowed, "However, I had four crewmen come to their department chiefs, afraid you were going to try something like drop out of the Jeffries tube into my quarters. It is for their sakes we are having this interview." Her eyes narrowed, and Ken was reminded uncomfortably of a striking cobra. "Media Relations forwarded some of your features before I approved your transfer from the _T'dell_ , and I don't recommend those tactics."

"Admiral," Ken said, "We are hundreds of light years from the Spheres connecting us to Federation space on a Starfleet operation. I'm well aware embedded journalism is not like feature reporting. I wouldn't dream of thinking what works for exposing the Syndicate connections-"

"Among other things, if I recall the trailer that was attached," Admiral Revka interrupted.

"Among others," Ken allowed, shifting in his seat. "But there's a question with the _Trafalgar_ that wasn't present on the _T'dell_." Revka nodded briefly, inviting continuation. Ken went ahead. "The _T'dell_ is a long-range _Intrepid_ -class science ship. Its place is exploring hundreds of light years deep in the Delta Quadrant. The _Trafalgar_ is a top-of-the-line _Guardian_ cruiser, commanded by one of the best young command crews in Starfleet. What would keep the ship at full warp for days away from our beachhead in this quadrant? What requires that sort of force if you're at the top of your game?" _Did you burn out_ went unasked, but heard.

There was no sound for a minute but the hurried breathing of the Admiral. "You… are _very_ good," she said. There was silence again for a bit. "Starfleet is not looking for wars, Mister Nguyen. I don't know everything that's made it to the public on what we found right here – but it's tied to the events back in First City that already plunged the Alpha and Beta Quadrants into war."

"The Vaadwaur tearing through the Quadrant are known, Admiral, you're safe there. I did a feature on the aid convoys being put together, it's what brought me to Starfleet's attention," Ken said reassuringly, pulling at his collar.

"Fair enough, but you're right – this is not a mission of peace," the Admiral said, "And it's that operation that has forced me to hold off the interview. Security concerns have prevented me from saying to you before now – and frankly, you've forced my hand by approximately twelve hours. This will affect your future standings with Starfleet." She held a hand up. "Let me finish – the morale of my people are important, and you are affecting that, putting their lives, and your own, at risk. Try and boost your ratings by eating at the relationship between my crew and their officers and Media Relations will make sure you have trouble finding a job _related_ to a holocamera on this side of the Tholian Assembly. _Am I clear?_ "

Ken recovered quickly. "Yes Admiral," he said. "I apologize, but I wasn't wrong earlier – you're the star of the picture, one of the heroes of Vega. They want the captain, not the ship."

The Admiral brought up a starchart, meaningless to Ken. "Then you're on the wrong ship right now, Ken, because it's going to be about the fleet." She sighed, and stood, pacing. "I did, however, check with Media Relations before we had this talk, and I didn't bring you up here just to threaten."

She continued, "There is an important battle coming up – why exactly I do _not_ have time to explain now, but will later. It's… involved, and it may very well determine the fate of entire sectors. In exchange for letting Starfleet verify no classified information is being passed, you will have access to our tactical and security feeds, and I will allow you to film on the _Trafalgar's_ bridge during the battle."

Ken's eyes fairly lit up at that. This was the bridge of a first-class starship, something that would require ninety-nine percent of the Federation four years, at least, at the single toughest educational method of study ever developed. Gift-wrapped. But he'd been offered bribes before. "All right, as long as I get to retain masters and editing is _only_ for classified material," he said.

The Admiral nodded, "Of course – to be honest, Ken, I have no interest in infringing in your rights to express your opinion, however developed it may be."

"How it develops?" Ken asked.

"That as well," she said calmly, "In exchange for all this, however, you will refrain from asking any questions about current operations or operational characteristics of the _Trafalgar_ for the next forty-eight hours. You don't know how a starship operates, Mister Nguyen, not yet, and we don't have time to teach you, so you're going to have to keep your eyes open and that tongue _stilled_. Also, if we both live, I will give you an entire duty shift for questioning."

"If we both live?" Ken asked, "Admiral, what are we getting into?"

"Right into the viper's den," Admiral Revka said grimly, "The largest battle seen in this part of space in decades. Starfleet Intelligence has finally traced the Vaadwaur misery to its source, and we're going to be facing the most advanced fighting force in the Quadrant." She smiled, tightly. "If this is disagreeable, we'll be passing a Class L planet with a small Malon outpost, and can arrange your accommodation."

He could guess, probably even hotter and stickier than where he was now, "This is too good to pass up – but tell me, Admiral, were your parents lawyers?" Admiral Revka shook her head. "Well, then you have incredible natural talent."

"And an excellent script," the Admiral said, standing. Ken blinked a little, but matched her gesture. "We'll arrange a console station at the bridge for you then, Ken. But since it _isn't_ related to operations – you're right, it is old-fashioned:" She gestured at her face, "I got it when I got accepted to the Academy before I left home."

* * *

A stern Andorian with captain's bars and two Tellarite security officials knocked on his door the next day. The stars were still streaming by – whatever was going on, they weren't there yet. He was escorted firmly, but politely, to a sprawling command center, where he was placed in a small chair and console, mainly dark, far back from the Admiral's chair in the center, which was still empty. He sat down, set his cameras to hover, and checked his mic pickup before looking around.

The air on the bridge seemed to shimmer from all the status displays. Holographic terminals glowed in air, Starfleet personnel moving with determination, and talking with low voices. A massive rendition of the _Trafalgar_ , festooned with status codes Ken didn't have the training to read, was on the back wall.

"Mister Nguyen, we will be tying into fleet and squadron tactical networks shortly. These two crewmen are part of the bridge security detail, but barring any boarding attempt on the bridge, they have been detailed to check after your safety," the Andorian said formally. Not comfort, Ken noted to himself. "We have just run a diagnostic on the bridge security monitors, and all feeds are running, including now. We may be unable to respond to any inquiries during combat, so do you have any questions?"

"Are you really expecting to have us boarded?" Ken asked, the cameras turning. "Isn't that a little… pre-deflector? Are we polarizing the hull plating and polishing the cutlasses?"

"Mister Nguyen, while shields can block most transporter attempts, I have learned in my career that there is little that can stop a very foolish and very determined transporter operator with enough bodies to throw at a deflector screen," the Andorian said. "The Vaadwaur have no regard for our lives and little for their own." She peered at the console chronometer and concluded, "And we'll meet them in about an hour."

Ken swallowed a little at that, throat drier than in the blaze that the Admiral called an office. "Oh, well. I'll see if I can get that in," he said, then shook himself. "No, I'm out here to do a proper feature, and that means getting in the action. I'm sure I can figure out the rest of the system. Was there anything else?"

Captain Takerra shifted uncomfortably. "Well, actually," she said and held up a PADD. Ken could clearly see one of his publicity stills on it. "It's for my sister – she wants to get into journalism and is a fan," she finished in a rush. Laughing Ken held his hands out for the stylus.

* * *

Antonine glanced at the features reporter. What had prompted a shift in focus from exposes to a bio on a Starfleet officer was beyond her, but she didn't think she would like it. But Starfleet was the flag of the Federation beyond its borders, and a free press was an important part of the Federation's interior. She preferred it to the upcoming battle though, and the privacy shield she's had mounted at his console would keep him quiet if needed.

So for the moment she was standing by his chair. Takerra still had the watch, but as normal for her, was hovering around the captain's chair while Antonine was on the bridge. She was looking like she'd found the proverbial canary, though, so something was up. Antonine didn't think her exec and flag captain had access to any specialized poisons, but it would probably be a good idea to send the reporter to medical later.

"Intelligence assets from the Alliance powers have been operating to gain information and make contact with local powers. One of these was a Hazari refitting post, and with the Vaadwaur predations depopulating worlds, they've come to an agreement to use the post to plant intelligence and serve as an operations center annoying enough the Vaadwaur are sending their main attack fleet here," Antonine lectured.

"Wait, a set piece?" Ken asked. "So – this will break them?"

"No," Antonine said, running her hand through her hair, "But it keeps them distracted – _we_ don't have enough forces to attack their main force and their installations, and they've been informed of this."

" _We_ don't?" Nguyen asked, leaning forward, showing more teeth than Antonine would like directed at her.

"No, but I've always felt the Federation's main strength is diplomacy even beyond what our philosophies allow us to do from a science or engineering perspective," Antonine assured. "The Vaadwaur have been assured that the local species will never be united. They are about to learn how very wrong they are. Our duty is to let that fleet do its duty. The Vaadwaur are the victims here, so destruction of the fleet is not the Alliance's priority, but we have a certain emotional distance our Delta quadrant allies don't."

"Oh, so this is going to be hit and runs?" Ken asked, dubiously, "Feinting from long range?" That didn't sound like good footage.

"No – we can't guarantee keeping them out of contact. We can't let them go to warp or slip into Underspace while their base is still active," Antonine said. "This is going to be a battle of fleets, hundreds of ships across millions of kilometers, and the real action is light years from here. The operational planning and arranging from our intelligence assets has taken most of the last month" The Admiral quirked her lips up briefly, not quite a smile. "I'm afraid we won't be at the right angle to get good footage."

Ken smiled back, sort of. "I'm interested in your reactions, we can splice together the battle footage later. And we've got the treaties signed, so the Delta powers will have good buy in. This _is_ history to them, much more than back home," he said reflectively.

"Quite right – I will try and answer your questions, but the safety of you and my crew, and the other ships under my command, must take priority," Antonine said seriously. "Through the course of alerts, you and your hovercams may not leave the area around y our chair, or you will be ejected from the bridge. Do you understand, Mister Nguyen?" He nodded. Antonine started to spin, then caught herself, and stood facing the camera again. She raised her voice slightly and tapped her commbadge. "All hands, all ships in the seventieth wing – this is Admiral Revka. Yellow alert. Stand by for action."

* * *

The bridge erupted into a coordinated chaos as Admiral Revka strode to her seat, a litany of reports from various system controllers being reported and LCARS diagrams and repeaters shifting to display a blaze of functions. Ken kept the cameras spinning, and monologued briefly, "The massive Alliance fleet prepares for battle under Admiral Revka. The Vaadwaur have depopulated worlds, and the valiant Starfleet joins with our former enemies in the Klingon and Romulan fleets to put a stop to their vile depredations, and only her tactical genius stands between- "

A small comm panel popped open on the panel, showing Admiral Revka who was glancing out of frame before looking at him. "Just a point of order, Mister Nguyen, I'm only in command of one of our fleet wings in this battle. I'd also trust any command-trained officer in Starfleet, or from our allies' academies, to be able to competently handle a fleet action."

"What? Is it that regimented or computerized? No room for initiative or experience?" Ken asked, moving a holocamera forward.

Admiral Revka made a huffing noise. "No, Starfleet training is that comprehensive, and Starfleet traditionally relies on our ships' captains – and _their_ initiative, even in large actions. I wouldn't say I'm irreplaceable, and experience certainly counts, but I'm what we have," she said.

Ken winced. "Sorry – I meant no offense," he apologized hastily. Antonine had turned away – it was easy to forget how _accelerated_ warfare attrition had made officer advancement.

"Admiral," Captain Takerra reported, one hand to her ear. "Probes report heavy communication traffic from Vaadwaur Prime, and Advance Element reports their major fleet concentrations are entering Underspace. Delta Command is authorizing Case Purple."

"Verify with Admiral Tuvok," Revka ordered. "Bring us out of our holding pattern and into the system. All ships: Red Alert. Order _Oracle_ 's group to ambush position. Main viewscreen – switch to strategic view."

A grid pattern was displayed on screen, a single system in the center as dozens of icons representing the Alliance governments moved to encircle it."

"Coming out of warp," reported the ensign at helm. "Estimated six minutes to Hazari outpost."

"Good insertion," Admiral Revka said warmly, "Squadron: form up, attack pattern six. Underspace status?"

A tall Klingon woman reported, "Underspace portals still quiet – Hazari ships are entering warp."

Takerra checked her status. "They're wishing us luck," the Andorian said wryly. "Squadron signals confirmation. Other squadrons reporting success."

"Thank you – tactical view," Antonine said.

A grid pattern resolved, with a fat dot in the middle, presumably the outpost, with several smaller icons with Supremacy signals. Dozens of dots with alphanumeric codes were scattered around, slowing forming into patterns. Ken looked around. If they were as nervous as him for what was coming, none of them showed it. "Which one are we?" he asked, though no answer came immediately.

Somewhere on the bridge a console beeped. The main viewscreen showed a series of flashes originating from around the Supremacy icons, then a lot of icons spilled out, forming into vast triangles. Many icons. Hundreds of dots, maybe thousands.

"Bring us to sector grid Gamma – nine, half impulse. Realign to pattern seven and begin coordinating shield frequency optimization" Revka ordered, and she leaned forward. "They're still fighting the last war, it seems. Time until _Oracle_ is ready?"

"Another minute. _T'dell_ has tightbeam to her and is receiving data for countermeasures package," Takerra said, "Two minutes until intercept range." Allied patterns shifted, and Ken finally spotted the blinking yellow dot that started moving right at the Admiral's orders, leading other ships towards the Vaadwaur.

He tapped the console, and brought up some camera views – stars, the infinite variety of deep space. Pretty, but not exactly marketable. He wasn't sure where he was looking, and the starfield was slowly turning as well. He left it cycling at the moment, and asked. "What did you mean the last war?"

Antonine glancing away, looked up. "Those triangles you see are three-dimensional cones, with the heavy ships at the base. The small ships are intended to quickly encircle and immobilize enemy ships for destruction from the heavy weapons ships whose weapons have limited traversal."

"Isn't it usually easy to get away from one another in space combat?" Ken said. There were seconds until combat opened.

"Right, but the Vaadwaur technology was boosted," Antonine said, sounding quite happy to talk even as the battle was about to open. "They don't have to have their weapon arrays so limited, and if their thrusters were as good as their engines, they wouldn't need such a tightly packed formation, and their targeting systems are really easy to spoof. _Really_ easy," she said cheerfully. "Takerra – _Oracle_ and _T'dell_ are cleared once _Trafalgar_ is targeted. _Trafalgar_ is cleared to open fire at maximum range. Full power to shields. Deflector control, stand by."

The ship suddenly shuddered, a high-pitched shriek. Ken clutched the arms of his chair as a brief flash of green light was visible. Shaking, he tapped back to that screen as the shrieks continued, rays of light tracing themselves into the distance. He then remembered that one of his interviews had been working on one of the ship's plasma arrays – _Trafalgar_ had Republic technology too apparently.

Suddenly different colors blazed on his retinas, and the ship shook, and the stars in the distance suddenly began to multiply. "Enemy polarons firing," the Klingon reported. "Tricobolt warheads detected. _Oracle_ is decloaking – _T'dell_ reports probes away."

"Hold fire," Admiral Revka ordered.

"Hold fire?" Ken asked incredulously.

A dot suddenly dropped in behind the triangle on the tactical display, and suddenly, the alphanumeric scrolls started flashing wildly, before dots suddenly started blinking off the map. On his visual pickup, a supernova apparently flared in the distance. Admiral Revka grinned briefly.

" _Oracle_ reports successful spoofing of their warhead sensors – sensor scrambling appears successful, Vaadwaur ships are realigning their targeting arrays," Takerra reported, and she briefly held her fist up triumphantly. "At least two heavy interdiction ships destroyed, one crippled. Remaining one shows evidence of massive radiation contamination, tactical analysis shows effectiveness at under twenty-five percent."

"My congratulations to both their captains for a nice piece of work – open fire, and see if you can get _T'dell_ to get scans on that ship, _Oracle_ will be busy," Antonine said, "That much tricobolt should have gotten them all at that range. Deflector control, standby – go for the center of mass. All ships cleared to fire."

"Bluegill?" Takerra said. Antonine nodded briefly as the ship started to shriek again.

"Well, I'm lost," Ken muttered, clutching the arms of his chair. Antonine glanced over again.

"I can't go into how, but as I said, their targeting sensors are pretty high-powered. Slipping our own signal in isn't that hard, once, though it'll be a while before we can do it again," she explained. "Their targeting discipline wasn't the best either – opened fire on anything on their scopes, even themselves." The ship shuddered briefly, and he heard something pop, or maybe explode, as several consoles flickered. "Sorry – spot overload. Now we need to continue maximizing our firepower," she turned away, "Gravity well – go." Ken swallowed.

Bolts raced in the distance, and there was a flash of something purple. On tactical view, the dots briefly clustered near the _Trafalgar_ , and a rainbow wave of color seemed to reach into the distance, but before the dots started to vanish, they suddenly started to race away much faster

"Vaadwaur have overcharged their engines, Admiral," the Klingon reported, "Interdiction drones approaching Alliance forces – we're," the ship suddenly jolted even harder than normal, briefly whiplashing people.

"Target the drone," Revka ordered. "Begin rotating shield frequencies. Activate particle conversion matrix. Transfer power to engines – I think we all know what's coming." A series of plus-signs appeared on the tactical screen. "Ships to independent maneuvering, get out of the barrage range," she said urgently. "Hang on."

The ship lurched again, and everyone seemed to relax minutely. Ken clutched the arms a bit harder. Then suddenly, the ship _lurched_ , shaking from all sides. Ken fell out of chair and clawed back to it.

"Hull breaches on decks seven and twelve, lateral sensors on backups – shield emitters stable, particle converter current flow kept us going – we're at forty-seven percent capacity overall, port shield down, rebuilding from other's capacity," Takerra said as the shaking slowed down.

Antonine waved that off, looking at the tactical – "Extend our shields to Phalanx – hurry!" she said.

"We're out of range," the Klingon said glumly. "The Vaadwaur definitely picked up on it – multiple ships are targeting them."

"Emergency maneuvering," the Admiral said. "N'Karon, can we intercept the warheads if we can't reach?" Admiral Revka said, twisting around. The Klingon, apparently N'Karon, shook her head. "Order them to abandon ship. _Trafalgar:_ continue movement to pick up what we can."

A hailing frequency tone came over, "Admiral the crew is leaving, but we can get the shields realigned – we're not ready to give, "the voice suddenly cut out, and Antonine bowed her head.

"Turn us back towards the fight," she said, voice full of finality. She looked down, and her image turned to the repeater. "Are you all right, Mister Nguyen? That forehead cut doesn't look good," she said politely. Ken touched his forehead, and grimaced at the blood.

"It's all right, I don't feel it yet," he said. "Shallow face cuts can bleed a lot," he explained – she was an alien species. Still, he knew a distraction. "What happened? What was the _Phalanx?_ "

Antonine glanced at the main screen briefly, and apparently reassured, explained. "The _Phalanx_ was a _Guardian_ class cruiser – the polaron barrage got lucky, and hit on the right shield frequency – they were wide open for the follow-up attacks. Takerra, how many have we picked up?"

"Two hundred and forty-seven, medical is going to triage – they were close enough there was a lot of radiation exposure," the Andorian said, antenna drooping.

Antonine frowned. "Everything we can do," she said quietly.

"That could have been us," Ken said. The admiral's eyes moved down and back.

"It may still be," she said flatly. "We're doing what we can with burst transmissions to hide which ship's the flag, but…" She shrugged, and turned back to the battle.

* * *

The battle continued, orders being given, sounds ringing back and forth through the hull, as dots shifted around on the map, occasionally vanishing, with the Alliance forces slowly contracting. Suddenly, the pace of the battle seemed to shift, and the Vaadwaur ships started to fall back.

"Signal from Admiral Tuvok," N'Karon reported. "Gaul is dead – Vaadwaur forces are being ordered to fall back – they are shutting down targeting sensors and reporting cease-fire."

Antonine slumped, looking considerably more tired and less confident than an hour ago. She glanced at tactical "Secure ship to yellow alert – release all crews to damage control and begin assembling reports. Drop weapons but not shields, and ask the Vaadwaur if they want us to recover their cripples."

"No response," Takerra said after about a minute.

"Move us in for close stands, security to standby then," Antonine said, "No reason to let them suffocate – Takerra, get a breakdown of what ships are still in shape to assist."

The viewscreen briefly flashed to show another strange alien species green skin and reflective eyes, in operations tan, a warp core in the background. "Lateral sensors off backups – impulse engines at ninety percent efficiency. We've got two burned out warp coils from that spot failure in the port nacelle, though we managed to stop the cascade into the third. Long-range sensors still off line, we're repolarizing the main deflector, so _please_ no full impulse. Shields at twenty-three percent right now, port battery deck off-line, and hull integrity has stabilized at seventy-three percent. Environmental reports O2 reserves are nearly rebuilt."

Admiral Revka nodded, "That's excellent work," she said, then continued slowly, "Did you want a tow arranged?"

The engineer glared.

"Just asking," Antonine said teasingly. The engineer huffed and vanished.

"Admiral any reactions?" Ken asked in the silence, but no one responded at first.

"Okay – bring us to that interdictor that survived the opening wave," Antonine ordered, "Security ready, and get me a detailed life-sign scan before we head over." N'Karon nodded, pulling up a hooded viewer to run scans.

"Admiral?" Ken asked, starting to wave. Takerra caught the motion, and tapped her CO on the shoulder.

Antonine glanced at her console then over, smiling slightly.

"Is this under a privacy screen?" Ken asked indignant.

"Well, we do have a transcript, Mister Nguyen, so I didn't _technically_ miss your questions," the Admiral began, but was interrupted.

"Enemy ship showing power surge – burning out the backup generators. There's a massive subspace wave," N'Karon said, "Target is our bridge!"

Antonine whirled towards the Klingon and stood, some sort of massive gun appearing in her hands in a shimmer of transporter effect. "Security to the bridge! Activate internal defenses," she ordered, and then bent down.

With a flare of gold, a single Vaadwaur transported to the bridge. Ken had to gape at that – it seemed a lot of effort. Then, a web of phaser light flared into being from hidden weapon points, impacting the Vaadwaur, who merely laughed, and began firing some sort of hand weapon with a staccato of sharp discharges, crew ducking as consoles exploded under the impacts. Ken ducked, as one came toward him, refracting away from his head in the privacy field before it burnt out in a squeal of static. Ken stayed on the floor, shaking from the sudden violence.

"A noble effort Admiral, but you will see how futile it is when we are all brothers under the skin!" Revka's Andorian XO lunged forward, going into a martial arts sequence before being thrown away.

Revka stood, and Ken shook his head – confused, there was a turret on the floor that hadn't been there before. It opened up with phaser fire as well, as the Admiral's squad support weapon opened up. The Vaadwaur laughed again at that, and started moving towards her.

He stopped briefly, as the dust and smoke swirling on the bridge suddenly was sucked towards the floor. "Idiotic P'taq," N'Karon said – he'd have to check the footage, but he doubted she'd ducked, and she was still tapping at her console.

"You think a little gravity will stop me?" the Vaadwaur said, then suddenly stopped, holding his side, smoke rising from the spot of the most recent impact of the phaser turret.

"Sorry," Admiral Revka said, speaking louder as her weapon started to whine, a ball of light gathering at its front, "But the Romulans let us know about that little trick." The weapon bucked, the Vaadwaur outlined in a haze of gold, and as it started to die, he was highlighted from the beams of the rest of the bridge crew, before vanishing into a haze of red energy and a whiff of smoke.

Revka moved the weapon up before it vanished in more transporter effect. "N'Karon, make sure that was the only one – check if he left anyone alive on the cruiser when that's done." The Klingon nodded, standing resolute at her station. Revka moved over and offered Ken a hand, "Mister Nguyen, any more questions about being in battle?" she asked.

Ken had nothing to say to that.

* * *

It was a few months later, _Trafalgar_ back on patrol after helping with the sudden outbreak of battle again on Kobali Prime, and Antonine had nearly forgotten the embedded reporter when Takerra caught her in the corridor after shift, holding an isolinear chip in one hand, its shipping container in the other.

"Media Relations passed on that holofeature from our guest," the Andorian said, looking pleased.

Antonine peered, and said, "I assume if you're that smug it's either really bad or really good."

"Oh, no," Takerra said, looking offended, "I wouldn't dream of influencing your opinion ahead of time."

"I _just_ remembered I left some intelligence briefs to read in my office," she started to protest, but the Andorian grabbed her arm and started force-marching her to the holodeck.

Having conjured up a couple of plush chairs, Takerra popped the chip into a reader as the holodeck resolved, showing a hovering starfield in mid-air, Vaadwaur ships and Federation escorts doing their best impression of an atmospheric dogfight as the teaser started.

"Andorian News is proud to feature the special report of Ken Nguyen, recorded live deep in the heart of the Delta Quadrant. Join him from the bridge of the Federation flagship,"

"Oh I thought we-"Antonine started, but Takerra shushed her. The recording continued.

"And thrill alongside side him as he faces danger at the young face of Starfleet's Hero at Vega, Antonine Revka, as this young theraspid-" A still of Antonine, right as her pulsewave was finished charging, appearing in lieu of the dramatized battle, "Rescues him from the Dragon's Jaws!" The screen changed again, to a lurid computer-generated dragon, vaguely plated like a Vaadwaur ship, snarling at the viewer

Antonine buried her face in her hands. It didn't really get better from there. The best she could say at least her crew got to show up to do some 'talking heads'. Mainly about her instead of the crew. Let alone the fleet.

Afterward, when it was finally over, Takerra said, "So, Media Relations was pleased with the buy-in for the feature, and wanted to know if you wanted to do another one?"

Antonine merely stood at that, pulled the chip from the reader, and stomped it under her heel, stalking out of the holodeck.

Takerra shrugged, and reached into the shipping container for the other four copies that had been sent. "Well, guess if she didn't want hers I can give the others to the rest of the bridge crew," Takerra mused, still grinning. They'd let it lie with Antonine eventually. Probably.

* * *

Author's note: 'Takedown' notes the main Alliance fleet is engaging the Vaadwaur fleet, allowing the hero captain to sneak through – a little bit of what's going on with that here. Space combat would probably be a little hard to take in for someone new to the job and looking more for a dramatic scoop then telling the tale of the soldiers, which seems to be Ken's point here.


	3. Chant of War

Chant of War

By tremor3258

Author's note: A little different – I was inspired by the _Kalevala_ and other long epic poems for the structure here – what _would_ a Klingon accounting look like with their current focus on epics and brauva?

 _Translator's note: While much of the official battle record of the Iconian War from the Klingon perspective has been translated, little of the records made for internal civilian consumption have been. Loremaster Chau'tak served on several battlefields in the surface and in space, and combined those with his appointment to the First City in the aftermath to combine multiple tales into a single narrative epic of the War._

 _This small section, primarily self-contained, serves as an example of the strides Klingon 'subject races' are making, from the perspective of public policy and acknowledgement. A small counterbalance to the devastation wrought by the Iconian War_ , _as well as a glimpse in the values the Empire seeks to promote, a matter of continued interest to Federation citizens_.

 _Every effort has been made to preserve meaning, while still retaining the original poetic meter_.

-Academia Prek, Vulcan press, 2415

* * *

And strode forth steely-eyed Jm'pok from the dais,

Forged again in the wake of the demons, forged of steel and blood,

Steely-eyed Jm'pok spoke to the crowd, the nobles of Qo'noS

"Who in the Halls is still deserving of honor that we have not yet spoken of?"

* * *

And I, chanter Chau'tak, Son of Rinsk, broke forth from the crowd

For the fourth time that day I met steely-eyed Jm'pok's eyes

And so I spoke to those vaunted Halls, the crowd of nobles

"D'ellian of M'ara, daughter of merchants, is a tale worth telling"

* * *

And Jm'pok said to let her come forward, but the crowd did not move.

Jm'pok spoke a second time, calling, and the front ranks did not shift.

And Jm'pok spoke a third time, and his words were of fire, and

The witch-daughter D'ellian, of no Klingon house or blood came forward

* * *

The crowd still murmured, but D'ellian was silent, and straight,

Before the fires of the Great Hall, and steely-eyed Jm'pok.

For on her back was a sword forged with the Seal, and a General's rank

Jm'pok glared, and cut the crowd's noise like stalks of grain

* * *

"This witch-daughter is known to me, and has served us in the past

"She is as green as the seas whose shore she was born on

"But Klingon she has proven in her heart and soul, blood and fire

"She has gone to Gre'thor – tell your tale Chau'tak"

* * *

No fool I was, even younger then than to challenge Jm'pok

So I spoke of the day I had seen months before

In the times of harvest, near the lands of bravely slain Martok

In the Ketha Highlands, where the targs run and no grain grows

* * *

But the great guns of Klingon science can reach and scatter warriors

For even great Klingons understand the might of stars under their command

For here rested the great artillery to guard the Lowlands, to fight the demons,

Above where the grain grows and the people can live

* * *

Here a tent was placed, for the science that is more delicate that our warriors

Kerr, of the House of Noq'it, , General of Klingons

D'ellian, daughter of merchants, General of Klingons

Both these and their loyal cohorts were in the tents

* * *

The tents to protect the mechanical thinkers and maps

That hunted the demons of air and darkness in the Lowlands

Here stood Kerr and D'ellian, and their brave warriors

Newly arrived from the fights on foreign stars.

* * *

These generals had been clever, and found those in the stars

Found those from all the Empire and its peoples

Whose hearths were more secure and were sworn to no House

Those who stood to fight for those who were ready, who had no blood-feud

* * *

The clever generals had arranged coin, sword, and food for these warriors

Found them across all the stars of the Empires

And stood with a thousand hands of troops, and weapons for all

Stood on the Highlands to fight the Demons, to protect Qo'noS.

* * *

No one could say where the Demons would strike Qo'noS

No one but madmen and fools, and neither were here this day

So they planned their artillery, to strike without warning

To strike all across the valley, to strike all positions

* * *

But the Demons thought they were fools, and so sought to strike

They sought to strike the head of the Klingon army, forgetting

Forgetting despite brave, lost Kahless, that all Klingons are warriors

That generals can lead, but all must fight who are warriors

* * *

And so their treacherous Heralds, and dark machines appeared

They came to the tent with a sound like thunder

Ignoring the honor and ferocity of the troops that surrounded them

And disdaining the Generals and their cohorts

* * *

But all were Klingons, under the skin. All were true to the ways of Kahless

For all were carrying weapons, for the tent was full of delicate things

They were all carrying blades, and fell upon the demons' servants

The servants who had forgotten Klingons killed their Gods

* * *

And so they all fought, and Heralds died. All fought that day

Those born on Qo'noS, or in the hatcheries of the Gorn

Those from dark Nausicaa or the Orion boudoir

And the servants could not withstand their might or honor

* * *

The Heralds fled, back to their masters, carrying tales

But not all fled. For even in a quick battle, Klingons have their blood

Some Heralds' combined their innoble strength, but they died as well

Brave and noble-born Kerr killed the mighty golem of the Heralds

* * *

But the Heralds had placed a dishonorable trap.

Seeking victory in an honorable defeat, they had planned a trap

For a vicious gas escaped from the Construct. A vicious acid

It hissed into the tent, an invisible serpent to strike at an honorable victory

* * *

It sought to break the machines they had brought to Qo'noS

To blind their troops and silence the Generals' voices.

But they underestimated the warriors, their honor, and their cleverness

For the clever Gorn of D'ellian, daughter of merchants

* * *

Had stood ready, a sensor at his hand even as he throttled

Choked life from the dark Heralds on behalf of Qo'noS

The clever Gorn told the others, and the warriors moved quickly

They moved quickly through the acid, moving the delicate things

* * *

They braved it, knowing a warrior's own gear must be rugged

And they soon had the supplies and stopped the acid

For the Klingons were brave, strong, and smart.

But Kerr, then noble Kerr, suddenly gasped, even as the acid was beaten

* * *

Kerr fell to the ground by the tent. No wound was upon him

Warriors came to seek his aid. Warriors from across the camp

But Kerr held them back. Kerr knew what had come upon him

"Fool I!" Kerr said, noble-born Kerr, "Fool to mistrust our allies!"

* * *

Kerr knew the tales of the witchborn, even though he knew D'ellian

And the fears had proven too much, and he sought to shield against dishonor.

He'd brought wards against the witch, wards the Heralds had destroyed.

And so Kerr was choked by his fears. The fears of the noble servants of Empire

* * *

"I mistrusted your honor!" said noble Kerr, "And die in vain.

"Brave D'ellian – I will go to the black fleet. Do what must be done!

"Perform the rites that only a Klingon can do!"

D'ellian, who knew her duty and placed, ended his pain, placed Kerr in Sto'vo'kor!

* * *

And the troops stood, and they were uncertain. They were not from Qo'noS

And one of their leaders stood dead, at the hands of the other.

And D'ellian, daughter of merchats, stood before them.

She held up the blade, forged on Boreth, forged by gone Kahless

* * *

It dripped with the blood of Klingons, it was quenched with the blood of Klingons

D'ellian stood before it, and pointed to the blood.

"This was shed to prevent a slow death!" she declared to the army

"This was shed so that Qo'noS will not have the same fate!"

* * *

"We are still here. We still live! Our plan is still ready!"

She pointed to the warriors, their equipment and around them

"The guns are still ready! Our blades are still ready!"

"But that does not matter! We are Klingon!" she said to the army

* * *

"We would fight for our homes without them!

"Without blade or without gun! Without starship!

"We would fight for our honor with our teeth and sinews!

"But we have our guns and our blades! And we will win!

* * *

And so at dawn, the Demons and their Heralds emerged

They struck to burn the fields, to destroy the homes of warriors

They thought they were clever and fierce

But they did not know Klingons, who were more clever and fierce.

* * *

The army was ready with its guns, blades, and cannon.

The ships in orbit were ready to move the army as needed.

The General was ready to call those to where honor demanded

And the farmers of the Lowlands were ready to fight for their homes

* * *

And so the Heralds died that day, bringing many brave warriors with them

For even when ready, they were a worthy foe, and many joined Sto'vo'kor

But the Heralds died that day. From noble-born Kerr and witchborn D'ellian

Their plan held the Lowlands, and gave our warriors heart

* * *

And so, then I, then merely chanter, finished my tale, for I had been there

Finished my tale to steely-eyed Jm'pok and the nobles.

And they muttered again, but the tones were different.

For they saw the Record of Honor clearly now, her general tags and blade.

* * *

And steely eyed Jm'pok spoke to the crowds, in the Halls

In the history and honor built by Kahless, entrusted to us

Built from the bones and bloods of dead Gods

There it was that Jm'pok spoke to the crowds

* * *

"D'ellian of M'ara, daughter of merchants" spoke steely eyed Jm'pok

"You have fought against the Demons, in the void and the ground.

"You have fought them well, led other great warriors to battle

"And were entrusted with the honor of a noble-born House leader."

* * *

"You have done all these things that were asked, and the Chanter has said your honor

"He has spoken well of you and yours. Of your cleverness in building an army

"In your strength at fighting the attack from dishonorable curs

"In your honor in holding the troops and the Lowlands"

* * *

Steely-eyed Jm'pok spoke to the witchborn and the crowd

"So we name you still General in the KDF, General to the Council and leader

"But we name you also a great warrior, unparalleled in honor

"D'ellian, daughter of merchants, we name you _Dahar Master!"_

* * *

And the nobles once again roared, now with steely-eyed Jm'pok

Seeing beneath the smooth skin, and the green

Seeing beneath it all to the heart of the Klingon that beat there.

To the honor done to their home by a daughter of merchants.

* * *

 _The official record, as stated is more dry – General D'ellian mentions in some detail that Kerr was wearing filtration plugs that were damaged by the caustic reactants released by the Iconian construct, causing fatal damage to his lungs. A reasonable precaution against long-term exposure to a Matron, but an unfortunate choice this particular day. The two Houses were linked via a mutual alliance with the prominent House of Martok, which held the Lowlands._

 _The troops this day were mercenaries recruited by the rich trading alliance generated between the two Generals' houses, and so their discipline was uncertain (M'ara had provided the money, whle Noq'it had provided transportation and additional weapons). Nonetheless, they held that day, allowing KDF line troops to be used to guard important production and strategic centers with the knowledge, and higher morale, that their homelands were secure._

* * *

Author's Note: And that's it for this batch – please review and leave comments, positive, negative. This is a re-upload to make the stanzas more obvious. ate the original breaks. :(


End file.
